


A Chance We Could Make It Now

by babbitly



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Bakery AU, Bitty owns a bakery in Providence, Jack still went to Samwell, M/M, They share carbs, among other things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 23:37:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5605246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babbitly/pseuds/babbitly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack has just signed with the Falconers, fresh out of Samwell. He's new to the area and on the hunt for furniture for his apartment when he stumbles into Eric Bittle's Bakery. </p><p>------<br/>“I have to go grab a customer but make sure you stop by again sometime.”<br/>“I will. The food was great.”<br/>“Look forward to it,” Eric said walking away from the table. Jack turned around and watched him, letting his eyes roam over Eric’s back as he waved to the customers who had just walked in, his cheerful voice ringing through the Bakery as he said “Hey y’all!”<br/>Jack liked this place. And Eric had a nice ass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Chance We Could Make It Now

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blackbird](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackbird/gifts).



> This story was so fun to write and Idk how it got so long BUT HERE IT IS. huge huge hugeeeee thanks to my friend sara for editing so much of this as i wrote and another nod to my friend dicey for the early help!!

He’d signed with the Falconers almost without a second thought.

It was the right fit.

A young team not looking for him to fill a void, a good GM who genuinely cared about his well being, he’d clicked with the teammates that he’d gotten the chance to interact with, and he was going to be close to Shitty and Lardo. The last part may have been the biggest pro on his pro-con list, but nobody would see that but him.

His dad was incredibly proud of him. The night he’d told his parents his decision to sign with the Falcs, Bob had clapped Jack on the shoulder before pulling him into a tight hug.

“I’m so proud of you, Jacques,” he’d said as he squeezed him, still strong from his glory days on the ice. Jack hadn’t been able to stop the tears that welled up in his eyes as he hugged his father back just as tight and choked out a watery, “Thanks, Papa.” He knew his dad would love him no matter what he chose to do, he could have quit hockey after his Senior season at Samwell, which was a thought he rejected so thoroughly in his mind that he knew would never have been an option for him personally, but his dad wouldn’t have even blinked an eye. They’d been through too much together as a family.

His mother joined them, wedging her way between Jack and his father, “Don’t hog him, Bob,” and pulled Jack’s face down to kiss him on the cheek.

“You’re going to do great things, sweetie,” she said, voice fierce and Jack believed her. He was going to do great things with the Falconers.

But as he looked around the empty condo that had yet to be entirely furnished besides his bedroom and a few bar stools against the kitchen island, he thought maybe he could have used a bit more guidance on the whole furnishing your first house thing. He’d stubbornly told his parents that they should leave and let him settle in on his own in Providence a week ago, sending them on their way back to Montreal with a kiss and a promise to call when he’d located the nearest grocery store. (His mother had texted him the address of the closest Whole Foods before he’d even managed to unpack his first bag).

It was still the off-season and their training schedule gave him plenty of time to get everything together in his house but Jack had been putting it off for two weeks now and he needed to go buy some damn couches. He’d allotted today to be the day. He was tired of sitting in his bedroom all the time when he was home.

Jack downed his protein shake, filled the shaker bottle up with water and sat it in the sink to deal with when he got back. He was going to be productive today. He really wanted—no needed, to feel like this was his house, not just some temporary thing in his life.

He swiped his keys off the island, checking to make sure he had the addresses that he’d saved the night before of the closest furniture stores to him on his phone, and locked his front door.

He was doing this. It wouldn’t take long. He could be back in time to watch Sports Center.

* * *

Jack was wrong. So  _ so _ wrong, he thought, as he slammed the door to his SUV and threw his phone on the leather seat next to him. It had been hours. It was already two o’clock and he still hadn’t bought anything to sit on. His head hurt, he was hungry, and if one more person asked him if "he’d ever considered microfiber cloth for his living room?" he was going to fucking scream.

He needed a break he thought as he pulled on to the main highway in town and drove. He’d managed to purchase a coffee table at the second store, but a lot of help that did him when he still didn’t have anything else to go in his living room with it. Walking into the furniture stores overwhelmed him there were just so many  _ things. _ And he didn’t even know what half of it was. Like why would someone need cup holders in their couch? Did he have an accent color picked out? Was he going for a contemporary vibe or more country chic? He didn’t know. He just wanted furniture that looked nice together and that he could fucking sit on. Jack gripped his hands tighter on the steering wheel and he drove and took a deep breath, feeling the tightness of anxiety in his chest as he did. He wasn’t going to get this worked up about furniture. He wasn’t.

Jack pulled into the parking lot of a small cafe that he’d passed a few times on his way to the rink and parked his car. He took a deep breath through his nose, letting his eyes close, and his hands grip as hard as he could for a moment before he let the breath out of his mouth with a loud exhale and released his grip on the steering wheel and opened his eyes. He was fine. He’d be fine.

Jack opened the door and shut it behind him, leaving his phone on the seat where he’d put it and headed to the doors of the coffee—no bakery, the doors just said “Bakery” in big white letters.

The shop was cute, Jack thought as he pulled open the door and was assaulted with the smells of fresh baking bread, his mouth watering instantly and stomach growling. Yeah, he needed to eat. Jack walked towards the counter and stood in line behind two older ladies and looked around the store, taking in the quaint decorations. There was a giant hand written menu on a large chalkboard behind the display case of pastries, an assortment of decorative chickens and roosters hanging from the walls, a cute blonde guy working the register with an animated smile on his face, and the soft background noise of chatter between patrons mixing with a song that was playing from the speakers that he’d heard before…somewhere… probably.

“Well,” the blonde cashier said loudly, snapping Jack’s attention away from the menu on the board above his head where he was eyeing the roast chicken sandwich, “Y’all’ll just have to try a slice of each to know, now won’t you?” He said this with a small smile, just the corner of his mouth curling up and then he winked at the women before him. Jack was interested.

“Fine, Eric,” the older woman on the left said with a laugh as she reached into her purse and grabbed her wallet, “But this sure doesn’t seem like the way you should treat your regulars, making them buy two slices of your pie. How cruel.”

“I’m not giving you free pie, Madeline,” the cashier—Eric—said clicking some button on the register and holding out his hand to the woman, “That’s only for your birthday, I guess I’ve spoiled you too much.”

“You really have, dear,” the woman on the left said, grabbing her wallet from her purse as well, “Ring me up for a slice of the Bourbon Pecan and a slice of the new one as well.”

“See, Madeline,” Eric said, taking the second woman’s card and swiping it, “you don’t see Ellen complaining about every free piece of pie I don’t give her.”

“That’s because she doesn’t know how to work the system,” Madeline said, taking the empty coffee cup Eric had produced from behind the register, “We’ve got to take this old age thing for all it’s worth.”

“Y’all aren’t old,” Eric said handing a mismatched mug to to Ellen as well.

“Bullshit,” Madeline said with a laugh. “You don’t have to sweeten us up, honey, we already bought the pie.”

“You can keep telling me I’m not old, Eric,” Ellen said as she walked away from the registers, “I’ll never get tired of hearing it.”

Eric laughed, “Okay, get,” he said flicking his hands forward to Madeline, “get away from the register you’re holding up my line.”

“Sorry, Dear,” Madeline said as she turned around to Jack, still smiling.

“Not a problem, ma’am,” Jack said smiling back; the exchange between them was entertaining, he really didn’t mind.

“Good boy,” she said, patting his arm and turning around to follow Ellen, coffee mug in hand.

Eric let out a sigh or a laugh, Jack wasn’t really sure which, and then looked up to Jack, eyes bright and kind and Jack felt himself feeling a bit better, like the day wasn’t a complete waste yet.

“I’m so sorry,” Eric said as he threw a receipt under the register and looked back to Jack. “Those two are a piece of work. Now what can I get you?”

“It’s fine,” Jack said, stepping up in front of the register. Eric was significantly shorter than him he noticed, as he looked down at his smiling face, freckles dusting his cheeks and forehead. “I don’t know what I want anyway, I’ve never been in before.”

“I know,” Eric said, grabbing a coffee mug and setting it on the counter between them. “I’m here pretty much every day. I’d remember if Jack Zimmermann stopped by.”

“Oh,” Jack said, the hint of a blush coming to his cheeks. He didn’t mind being recognized, he’d dealt with that for most of his life in Canada and in the Juniors but he hadn’t pegged Eric for the hockey type. Jack mentally scolded himself, he doesn’t know anything about Eric, and he shouldn’t be assuming anything about him other than the fact that he is incredibly handsome and has good hair.

Jack stared at the menu above Eric’s head again, not really sure what to say and not really reading the menu.

“I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that,” Eric said, “I know you must get recognized all the time and then I just have to blurt out the first dang thing I think and I just can’t keep my m—”

“It’s fine,” Jack said, cutting Eric off. And really it was, Jack didn’t mind. “Just tell me what the best thing is on the menu and we’ll call it even.”

Eric stared up at him for a minute, “Any food allergies?”

“No.”

“Do you drink coffee?”

“More than I should,” Jack said, rubbing a hand through the back of his hair.

Eric smiled up at him again, clicked a few buttons on the register, and slid the blue coffee mug across the counter to him.

“I’ll bring it right out, take a seat anywhere.”

“I haven’t paid yet,” Jack said pulling his wallet from his back pocket.

“And you’re not going to, either,” Eric said, turning away from him and heading to the pie case with four plates in hand. Jack stood there watching him as he pulled out four pies and set them on top of the display case, cutting them with precision and ease. Jack wasn’t sure how he should act, he didn't hav eany cash, he could go to the ATM and sneak a 20 on the counter later?

“Don’t even think about it, Mr. Zimmermann,” Eric said from across the case, “Put that wallet away and go sit your butt down.”

“You’re not—”

“I am. It’s my bakery, so yes, I am,” Eric said, holding four huge pieces of pie on his arms and staring at Jack. “You can make it up some other time,” he said with finality. Jack wasn’t getting his way with him. 

Jack blinked, picked up the coffee mug off the counter, and walked back to the drink station. He didn’t like people doing things for him because he was famous. He didn’t even like thinking about the word famous and himself in the same sentence. He filled up his mug, poured in a small amount of skim milk, and sat at a booth, one of only six other tables in the bakery and waited. He sat with his back facing the bakery, looking out the window at the cars that drove by. He sighed, taking a deep pull of the coffee, which was good, and sat the mug back down. One day he’d get used to all this.

One day he’d also have some fucking furniture to put in his goddamn house.

Jack scrubbed his hands through his hair and leaned forward on his elbows. He had to get it all done today. For his sanity he had to get it all do—

“Okay,” Eric’s voice said to his right, snapping Jack out of his thoughts, “I picked the roast chicken sandwich for you, it’s my favorite. And seeing as I made it, it’ll be yours, too.” Jack looked up to Eric as he slid the plate on the table in front of him and swung around to the other side of the table, sitting in the booth. “Do you mind?” he asked, motioning his hands in front of him.

Jack shook his head no and grabbed a half of the sandwich on the plate, which did look wonderful. He took a bite, knowing full and well that it was probably rude to not acknowledge the person sitting at your table before digging in but he couldn’t find it in him to care, he was so hungry. The sandwich didn’t disappoint. The bread was soft, everything was seasoned perfectly, and he could already feel his headache going away as he took another bite.

He looked across the table to Eric who had a small smile on his lips, watching him eat.

“So you like it?” He asked, taking a sip from the mug he must have brought with him.

“Yeah,” Jack said, covering his mouth with his hand to respond. Jack downed the whole half of his sandwich before he tried to talk again.

“Sorry,” he said, taking another sip of coffee before meeting Eric’s warm eyes. “It’s been a long day.”

“What have you been up to?” Eric asked and Jack believed that he was really interested in how he spent his day.

“Furniture shopping, actually,” Jack said, sighing and shaking his head at the thought.

“Not going so well?”

“I’ve been at it for four hours and I’ve managed to buy a single coffee table, so yeah, you could say that,” Jack said before taking another drink.

“Ouch,” Eric said grimacing, “That sounds like hell.”

“A special kind of hell, I think.”

“Furniture shopping is Hell’s third ring, right?”

Jack laughed, watching as Eric grinned at him from behind his coffee mug.  He was so cute.

“It might be closer the sixth ring, but I could be biased.”

“Have you tried Smith’s yet?” Eric asked, setting his mug down again and brushing his hands over the table.

“No.”

“You should go there,” Eric said as Jack took a smaller bite of the other half of his sandwich.

“Where is it?”

“Over off Main Street near 9 th ,” Eric said pointing with his hand behind him, like that would tell Jack exactly where he needed to go. “Nice people, usually not crowded, won’t try to swindle the new rookie in town,” he teased.

“Well that’s good,” Jack said smiling back, “I’ll head there next.”

“Tell them I sent you. I’m Eric Bittle by the way,” Eric said with a small wave, looking to the side of their booth when a bell rang above the door.

“Jack Zimmermann.” Jack said, shoving the rest of his sandwich in his mouth, why did he just say that, obviously Eric knew who he was, Jesus he was such an idio—

“It’s been a pleasure to meet you, Jack,” Eric said sliding out of the booth, “I have to go grab a customer but make sure you stop by again sometime.”

“I will. The food was great.”

“Look forward to it,” Eric said walking away from the table. Jack turned around and watched him, letting his eyes roam over Eric’s back as he waved to the customers who had just walked in, his cheerful voice ringing through the Bakery as he said “Hey y’all!”

Jack liked this place. And Eric had a nice ass.

* * *

Jack sat on the sofa in his living room a week later, the sofa he’d bought at Smith’s, along with every other piece of furniture in his living room, and scrolled through his phone as the History Channel played in the background. He still hadn’t gone back to Eric’s bakery to thank him for the shopping tip, but he needed to and he would, as soon as he stopped jerking off at nights to the thought of his little mouth pulling into a smile.

There was a documentary about the Civil War that he liked on television right now, but he’d seen it a few times so he let himself idly scroll through his group messages with his old Samwell team while it played.

Shitty was losing his mind at Harvard. He would send almost daily texts to the group about “some dude bro with a trust fund the size of fucking Rhode Island” in his class who’d said some ridiculously privileged thing in class and rather than take it out on him, he’d let the group tear the guy apart in the message.

Lardo was hard at work trying to train the new team manager, a sophomore with an attitude problem, as Lardo liked to lovingly call her.

Rans and Holster were in Canada for a few weeks of the summer. They’d just officially started dating, so they were trying to get their parents used to the idea while they still had time before the season started back up.

It was hard being away from his friends, but Jack knew he’d always have them, even if they all weren’t sharing the same frat house, and Shitty wasn’t slamming his door open in the middle of the night with some stoned epiphany about the use of water for fuel.

Jack laughed and closed out of the group chat before opening Grindr on his phone. He didn’t use it a lot. He hadn’t met up with anyone yet, but if this was going to be his home for at least his four contracted years, he thought he should probably start somewhere. Grindr probably wasn’t the best answer, but neither was pining over the blonde baker you’d talked to for thirty minutes a week ago.

Jack was out to the people that mattered to him in life, like the guys in the group, his parents, and Georgia, the Falcs recruiter, but he wasn’t ready to come out publicly yet. He didn’t want that burden his first season. And yeah, it pissed him off that his sexuality would even be considered a burden to someone’s career but he couldn’t really do anything about shitty public opinion. So here he was, scrolling through Grindr with a profile picture that only showcased his abs. Lardo had actually suggested the image to him when he confessed that he was scared of using the app, “Dude, just don’t show your face, that’s so common on there.” So he’d done just that. He clicked on the messages icon. He had a few, some asking for more pictures, others asking if he wanted to fuck or meet up, nothing new. He ignored them per usual.

Jack clicked over to the “Near You” tab and started scrolling. He clicked on the image of a brown haired guy with a dog in his picture and smiled to his phone screen. Maybe he’d get a dog.

Jack clicked back to the main page and kept scrolling, stopping when he saw a familiar blonde in one of the pictures. Jack felt his stomach twist in excitement and when he clicked on the picture and it filled his whole screen, it twisted harder. There was Eric Bittle, smiling at him on his phone.

Jack dropped his phone on his stomach and pushed both of his hands up his face and into his hair. He didn’t really know what to do; he was excited to at least see that Eric liked men, so at least he had a sliver of a chance with him. But that didn’t mean anything. Jack probably wasn’t even Eric’s type, or maybe he was.

Jack hadn’t allowed himself to even think about the crush he’d developed on Eric since their run in last weekend because he didn’t want to jump the gun, but now that he had let the thought come to a fruition, he felt like his grin was going to make his cheeks sore for a week.

He wanted to go see Eric again. He really did. Jack grabbed his phone off his chest and looked at Eric’s picture, his wide smile, his perfect, and those stupid freckles that and swiped his thumb to the left. His eyes went wide as he took in the image of Eric, shirtless this time, in a bathroom mirror with the top of his black underwear peeking out above the counter. He was toned, not too skinny, definitely some muscle definition, and Jack felt a jolt of need go straight to his dick. Jack closed the app as quickly as he could and threw his phone down by his feet. He wasn’t about to jerk off to that image; he didn’t want to make this any more embarrassing than it already was in his mind.

He  _ was _ going to go see Eric though.

Jack took a deep breath grabbed the remote from the coffee table, and turned off the History Channel. He got up off his couch, snatching his just tossed cell phone and shoved it in his back pocket.

He halted his walk towards the door to stop by the bathroom and make sure he at least looked decent. He’d been out to lunch with Georgia earlier, just going over some new information together as she checked in on him to make sure he was settling to the area well, so the outfit that he had on was fine, jeans and a navy blue shirt, so he ran his hand through his hair again and left.

* * *

The shop wasn’t too busy, Jack noticed, as he swung his SUV into an empty parking spot near the doors. More people than the last time he came, but not crazy. He walked into the bakery, once again assaulted with the sweet smell of fresh baked goods, and walked up to the counter. His heart fell almost immediately. He hadn’t even thought about the fact that Eric might not even be there today, and as he looked at the young, brown haired girl who was working the register, he tried not to frown.

The girl looked towards him, her eyebrows shooting up when she did, and she plastered on a smile.

“H-hi t-there,” she said, her eyes flitting to the door that lead to the back room and clearing her throat, “Welcome to the Bakery, what can I get for you?”

“I’ll have a coffee, please.” Jack said, scanning the back area of the bakery for Eric’s blonde head.

“Okay, um, anything in the coffee?” She asked.

“No.”

“Okay that’ll be uh,two-fifty,” she said as Jack reached into his wallet and grabbed his card.

“Sorry, we have a five dollar limit on cards,” the girl squeaked out, her forehead wrinkling in worry.

Jack sighed, he never carried cash, and looked around in his wallet for a stray bill to no avail, “Can you just charge me for two coffees?” He asked without looking up at the girl, the heavy weight of embarrassment heating up the back of his neck. He hated things like this, it made him feel so awkward and c—

“Charge him for two coffees and a slice of pie, Anna,” Eric’s voice called, and Jack felt his excitement return ten-fold. He looked up from his wallet to see Eric walking down to the registers behind the counter with a smug smile on his lips, his hair pushed back from his face today. Shit.

Jack felt himself smile at him; this man wasn’t good for his well-being.

“He owes me,” Eric winked at Jack and Jack could have combusted right there, “And he hasn’t tried my pie yet.”

The girl looked between them, before clicking the appropriate buttons on the register, “Okay, that’ll be eight seventy-five then.” Jack handed her his card again and watched as Eric walked behind her to grab a plate.

“Now, what sounds good, Mr. Zimmermann?” Eric said leaning his elbows against the display case.

Jack looked down, taking his eyes off Eric and searching through the case of desserts before him. Everything sounded good, and it all looked so well decorated that it could have been fake. He read the tag for a crumbly pie that looked appetizing, “The Maple Apple.” That was right up his alley.

“I’ll do the Maple Apple,” Jack said as he pointed to the huge pie in the case.

“You sure are a walking Canadian stereotype, aren’t you?” Eric teased, pulling the pie out and cutting a large slice before plating it.

“How do you now I’m Canadian?” Jack asked, he didn’t sound  _ that _ Canadian, nothing like his father at least.

Jack noticed the red tinge creep up Eric’s neck as he questioned him and felt that twist in his gut creep lower. Shitshitshit.

“I always like to check up on our rookies.”

“Did I meet your standards?”

“We’ll see after you try my pie.”

Jack laughed, taking the mug that the cashier held out for him and walked towards the coffee bar. He was filling up his mug as Eric came to stand beside him, he was holding the piece of pie, one mug, and a fork. Jack let his eyes roam over his small frame once before biting the inside of his cheek.

“Aren’t you having any?” He asked, trying hard to sound nonchalant in the offer to share pie with Eric, a man he didn’t know, a man he most definitely had a crush on, a man who he’d seen only thirty minutes earlier shirtless in his underwear on his phone screen. Jack gripped his coffee mug tighter as Eric leaned across him and grabbed another fork. Eric turned to look up at him and smiled.

“Why yes I am.”

* * *

“I shared pie with a guy on Wednesday,” Jack said into his blank computer screen on Thursday night. He was talking to Shitty on Skype and he didn’t really know how to bring up the Eric thing, was it even a thing? They’d only shared pie and talked about his furniture shopping, and practice, and pie, okay Jack wouldn’t shut up about Eric’s pie, he may have moaned at some point, he was trying not to think about it anymore.

“Is that like a weird sex term?” Shitty asked, swinging back into the camera view, his face puzzled, now missing his shirt.

“No,” Jack snorted, shaking his head. “I mean it. I shared a slice of pie with this guy on Wednesday. He owns a bakery near my place.”

Shitty stared at him, and then a smile cracked from underneath his moustache.

“Is this guy also of the gay persuasion?”

“Yeah.”

“Good man!” Shitty yelled, leaning forward in his chair and getting close to the screen. “Did you do anything else that didn’t involve pie?” He said with an exaggerated eyebrow raise.

“No, Shits,” Jack laughed again, running his hand up his neck, “We didn’t.”

“Takin’ it slow?”

“I don’t even know if he knows I’m gay.”

“Takin’ it real slow?”

Jack laughed again, the good mood from his trip to the bakery with Eric still very much present even though it had been almost forty-eight hours. He liked Eric. He was kind and funny and fucking cute.

“I don’t know,” Jack said, scrubbing his hand over his forehead, “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Aww, Zimms,” Shitty said, smiling, “Look at you, all flustered like a little teenager. "Did you jerk it to him last night, too?”

“Fuck off,” Jack said without any malice behind the words, because yes, he had in fact jerked off to that picture of Eric in his underwear last night.

Shitty’s face lit up at his retort. He pushed back from his desk, far enough back that when Shitty called, “Lards, Bro, come here!” Jack got a full view of his naked ass when he ran off the screen.

Lardo and Shitty reappeared a moment later, Shitty smiling and Lardo with paint down one side of her cheek.

“Hey, Lardo,” Jack said, smiling at her.

“How’s Providence, dude?” She asked, smiling her wide, infectious smile at him. He missed her so damn much. Both of them. 

“It’s goo—”

“Ask him about Providence later, Lards, Zimms here has got himself a boy.”

“Shitty,” Jack barked, putting his head into his hands and groaning as Lardo yelled “What?” through the speakers.

“Yeah,” Shitty said as he grabbed Lardo’s shoulders, “They had pie together.  _ Pie _ , Lardo. They shared carbs!”

“Jack, that’s great,” Lardo said, her voice happy and reassuring.

Jack lifted his head from his hands and stared at his two best friends, he took a deep breath, “I don’t know if it’s going to turn into anything, guys, but yeah. We’ve only talked twice. So I know I’m getting too far ahead of myself here, and I mean it probably can’t work out anyway, I can’t come out yet, and the season is coming up, and—”

“Jack Zimmermann,” Shitty yelled, and Jack went silent. Jack looked up to the screen, eyes wide and saw Shitty leaning forward again almost taking up the entire screen with his face. “You stop talking yourself out of this before anything happens or so help me, I will drive down there and kick your beautifully sculpted ass.”

“Me too!” Lardo said behind Shitty, before yanking him back by the hair so Jack could see her again. “Don’t worry about something that hasn’t happened yet, Jack,” she said, calmly, still smiling. “Just give yourself a chance, bro.”

Jack blinked, his eyes stinging a little bit, and smiled at his best friends.

* * *

Jack turned up to the Bakery three days later with a book this time. He’d decided that even if he was going there to see Eric, and maybe, hopefully, talk to him again, at least this way he’d have an excuse to stay longer if he needed it.

He parked, walked into the shop, and got in line. He could see Eric waiting on a customer at the register and he let a small smile slide on to his lips. Jack was so gone.

Jack looked up to the board behind the cases and browsed over the menu, determinedly not staring at Eric the whole time, he wasn’t going to be weird—well he was going to try to not be weird.

Everything on the menu really did sound great, he’d remembered that from the short amount of time he’d gotten to glance at the menu the first time he’d been in. There were sandwiches, soufflés, pastries, lots of coffee, and even a small area on the board for protein smoothies. Hm. Jack would have to remember that.

He had just decided that he was going to try the Turkey and Cranberry sandwich when he heard Eric calling his name.

Jack averted his eyes from the menu and saw Eric standing right in front of him behind the display case, Anna now at the register ringing out a customer.

“Hey, Eric.”

“What do you want?” Eric asked, leaning over the case, “I’m about to take my break we can eat together.”

Jack’s heart and stomach and maybe some other vital organs jumped at the idea of spending a decent amount of time with Eric and he cleared his throat and told him he wanted the Turkey sandwich. He reached for his wallet and pulled out a twenty-dollar bill, cash that he’d just gotten out of the ATM specifically to use here after reading about small business losing money on credit card transactions, and held it out to Eric who scrunched his nose at the bill. Jack thought it might have been the cutest thing he’d ever seen.

“Please take the money,” Jack said as pleadingly as he could, setting the twenty on the display case.

Eric laughed at him, “Oh, bless your heart.”

Eric pulled a mug up from behind the case and set it on top of the bill, smiling, “I’ll meet you at the table in a few minutes.”

“Bon dieu,” Jack said under his breath, grabbing the cup and the twenty off the counter and reaching around the customer who was ordering and shoving it into the tip jar.

Eric laughed again as he turned around and walked over to the coffee bar. Jack shook his head and filled up his mug. What a stubborn guy, he thought, smiling to himself as he added skim milk to his drink. Stubborn and hot. Jack sighed at his own train of thought and walked over to a table this time, the booth he’d sat at previously occupied by an older couple. He put his book next to him and the coffee in front of him, and observed the other customers who were eating. Jack like people watching, he was good at picking up on emotions, so doing this always entertained him. There was the elderly couple in the booth, a mother and young daughter in a table a few chairs over from him, an old man reading a newspaper sitting in the seat by the window, and a teenage girl, frantically typing on a laptop keyboard.

Jack picked up his mug and took a sip, letting the warmth permeate his cold hands; they were always cold, even now in the summer.

A plate was placed in front of him and Eric swung around the table to sit in the chair on his right. Jack wasn’t going to admit to himself that it made him giddy that Eric chose to sit right next to him instead of the seat across from him, but he didn’t like to lie to himself, so he just avoided the thought and focused on the sandwich.

“This looks great, Eric,” Jack said, turning to look at him, he was smiling, always smiling.

“Thank you,” Eric said, his eyes trailing away from Jack’s to his own sandwich which also looked appetizing.

“What did you get?” Jack asked before taking a bite of his own food. He let out a tiny groan at the flavor. It was incredible, again.

“Uhhh,” Jack heard Eric stutter, “A sandwich, yeah, um a ham and swiss-uh sandwich.”

Jack looked at him, concerned, his eyebrows knitting together.

Eric cleared his throat, “Sorry,” he laughed, fanning himself with his hand twice as the blush crept up his neck out of the collar of his shirt, “I got the Croque Monsieur.”

“Are you okay?” Jack said staring at him, the color in his neck deepening.

“Oh lord,” Eric said laughing, “Yes, yes. I’m fine, Jack. Sorry.”

“Do you need some water?”

“Lord, no,” Eric laughed, reaching forward and grabbing his sandwich and shoving a bite into his mouth before Jack could ask any more questions.

They chewed in compatible silence for a while, both of them hungry, before Eric turned towards Jack.

“So, how is it?”

“It’s good,” Jack said looking at Eric, his elbow on the table, his hand resting on his face as he watched Jack answer him. Jack knew he was looking to see if he was lying. He wasn’t though. The sandwich was great. “Everything’s great here, Eric,” Jack reassured him, looking into his eyes because he felt like he needed to reassure him. He saw Eric visibly relax and turn back to his own sandwich to take a bite.

“Have you gotten to explore the city much?” Eric asked a moment later, reaching forward and taking a sip of his glass of water.

“Not too much,” Jack answered, covering his mouth and swallowing before turning to Eric. “The guys on the team have taken me out with them a few times, but just to some bars and pubs, not really my thing, yah know?”

“Oh, not much of a partier?” Eric asked, bumping Jack’s knee with his under the table. Jack froze. Shitshitshit. “Isn’t that like bred into you when you’re a professional athlete?”

Jack looked as his hands and let out a huff of laughter, “Yeah, I think so, but I was in rehab when I was 18 so I’m pretty much done with that.”

Eric’s brown eyes widened, “What?” he asked, shocked probably.

“Yeah,” Jack said easily, he’d dealt with telling people about his past before he was okay with it now, it didn’t upset him anymore. It was the past and this is who he was now. “Back in the Juniors, right before I was supposed to be drafted to the Pros actually,” Jack said, keeping his eyes trained on Eric’s features, gauging his reaction. “I took too much anxiety medicine one night and mixed it with alcohol. Not a good combination, really. You can get alcohol poisoning pretty easily when you mix them. But my parents found me in time and I went to rehab for a year.” Jack shrugged, unsure of what else to say. 

Eric looked stunned, his eyes still wide, his hand pulling at the collar of his polo shirt. Jack was immediately full of nerves. Why had he told him so suddenly like that, he was probably going to do that pity look everyone gave him after they found out. He hated pity. He wouldn’t be able to deal with that. He didn’t want to deal with it from people anymore.He’d gotten past that part of his life, he wasn’t his actions as a teenager. 

“Wow, Jack,” Eric said, derailing Jack’s train of thought as he slowly slid out of his shock, his eyes warm again. He dropped his hand from his collar and reached over to let it rest on Jack’s forearm, squeezing once, “Thanks for telling me that.”

Jack stared at Eric. His voice so genuine as he thanked him, his hand warm and soft against Jack’s forearm, and that little squeeze of pressure trying to reassure him. 

“You’re welcome. Thanks for taking it so well.”

Eric smiled at him again, mouth closed this time, before removing his hand from his arm and grabbing his glass of water.

“So, what else have you done in Providence?”

“Not much. Between practice and working out and coming here, I don’t really do much. I run around the park a lot, that’s really nice. I want to take my camera out there one day. But—”

“Oh, hon,” Eric said looking horrified at his boring social life, probably.

“I’ve got a list of places I  _ want _ to go,” Jack laughed.

“Why haven’t you gone, you aren’t in season yet.”

“Well,” Jack said, rubbing his hand through the back of his hair, flustered, “I don’t know many people here, and I don’t want to drag one of the rookies around with me from the team, they’re all that prime example of being bred to party, so I don’t know I usually just…do my own thing, I’m used to it so I don’t mind.”

“Will you go on a date with me?” Eric blurted out and immediately clapped his hand over his mouth, his eyes going wide again.

Jack stared back at him like his whole body had frozen to his seat, it might have. He wasn’t sure. He just knew that Eric had just asked him out. Loudly. He let his eyes flit around the room, making sure no one was staring at them and was happy to see that their interaction was not of interest to anyone here.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry,” Eric said, waving his hands around, “I mean like will you go with me to some of the places, together, it doesn’t have to be a date, I don’t even know if you’re gay, you’re really good looking, and Anna said you were checking me out and kind of flirting, but maybe you’re just a naturally flirty person. People are just like that sometimes, I know, but oh, lord.” Eric grabbed his water and took a large drink, foregoing the straw and just tilting the glass back at his mouth. His neck was bright red, the color creeping up his cheeks.

“I’ll go on a date with you,” Jack said, still watching him.

Eric put his glass down on the table and turned to look at Jack. “I’m sorry, come again?”

“I said, I’ll go on a date with you,” Jack repeated, running his hand through his hair again, “I’d like that.” 

Eric laughed and leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hand down his face. Jack wasn’t sure how to read his movements, was he excited Jack said yes? Was he doing this out of pity because Jack had told him he didn’t have that many friends? Jack shook the thoughts from his head, no. No. He wasn’t going back on saying yes. He wanted this.

“I would, too,” Eric said, looking at Jack again, his face as red as Jack’s surely was.

“You sure?” Jack questioned, feigning nonchalance in the question but also giving Eric an out if he wanted to rescind his offer.

Eric stared at him, turned his body toward Jack, grabbing his knee under the table in the process and nodded his head. “I’m sure. Lord Almighty, I’m sure.”

* * *

Jack hadn’t been on an honest to god date in...actually, he wasn’t sure he’d ever been on a date like this before. Nothing in the Juniors counted. He liked to pretend those strung out years didn’t exist most of the time, so drunken nights with puck bunnies sneaking him into bars where he’d get blowjobs in the bathroom stalls didn’t even cross his mind to be considered as dates.

Camilla had probably been his last date. But that was his Freshman year of college. 

Camilla had been the best date Jack could have hoped to have for Winter Screw. She was funny, easy to talk to, and outgoing enough that Jack didn’t feel anxious leaving her with a group of his friends if he needed to take a break from the crowd. They’d ended up back at Camilla’s dorm after Screw, both of them buzzed and happy and Jack didn’t even mind when she’d come out of the bathroom in sweatpants and a tank top and asked, 

“Hey, Zimmermann, are you into guys?”

“Yeah,” he’d said, surprised at himself that he’d confirmed so quickly. 

“What about girls?”

“Sometimes,” he’d smiled.

She smiled at him and threw a baggy t-shirt that she’d collected from her closet at his face. 

“Well, I’m not really into many guys either, but you’re hot and I really wouldn’t mind getting laid so...” she trailed off, staring at her feet.

Jack grinned at her brazen attitude, something he found completely endearing, and when he’d woke up the next morning with Camilla curled into his side, he didn’t feel like he needed to run, or like he needed to stay. Camilla became a good friend to him after Winter Screw. They never had sex again, but it was never weird for them. She was someone outside of Jack’s hockey sphere that he could feel at ease with, that he respected. They’d ended up having a few classes together over the next few years and Jack would be forever grateful for her. She’d even set him up with a few guys that she knew who were okay with just being casual with him. Jack didn’t hide it from anyone that he slept with that any type of relationship he could have was purely sexual, and a lot of guys didn’t mind. 

He probably could have had relationships with one or two of those guys but he knew he wasn’t in the right place, he didn’t need someone. He had never felt the desire that people that age, and most of his friends had, to be in an intimate relationship with someone. He didn’t have time to invest in another person, he barely had time to invest in himself. But Jack never felt lonely in college. He was surrounded by his friends, as close to some of them as he was to his family, and he’d never felt like something was missing. He was happy, he was healthy, for the most part, and his life revolved around the rink. And that was probably the difference between his college self and the person he was staring at in the mirror who was trying on his fifth shirt for the date he was about to go on. He went to Samwell for hockey, he went there to make it to the Draft. But the person in the mirror was 25 now, a professional hockey player for the Falconers, and he wanted to fucking go on a date Eric Bittle.

Jack sighed as he looked at his outfit critically. He smoothed the front of his button up shirt and checked to make sure the sleeves that he’d rolled up were still even. They were. This was as good as it was going to get. He wasn’t changing again and he was getting annoyed with himself. Jack walked to his doorway, flipped the lights off for his bedroom and stomped down the hall and stairs. He needed to calm down. It was just a date. With Eric. A date with Eric. 

Jack threw himself on to his couch face down and let out a loud groan. Why wasn’t he better at this? 

His phone dinged from the coffee table and reached out for it without lifting his face from the cool leather of his couch cushion. He felt around for it, almost knocking over an empty glass in the process, and finally grabbed it and sat up to look at it. 

Eric Bittle (2)

Eric [4:06pm]: I’ll text you when I’m heading over to the Bakery :D

Eric [4:15pm]: okay leaving now. Be there in 15.

They’d exchanged numbers after Eric had asked him out, Jack’s stomach still twisted pleasantly at the awkward encounter. They’d agreed to hit up some places around the city that Eric thought Jack needed to see if he was ever going to consider himself a true Providencian. They had planned to meet at the Bakery because it was the closest to downtown between their two houses. 

It only took Jack five minutes to drive to the Bakery so he grabbed his wallet and keys off the kitchen island, sliding his wallet into his back pocket before walking through the door of his condo and locking it behind him. He took the elevator down to the garage, hopped in his car, and texted Eric before he started the car. 

Jack [4:18pm]: leaving now, see you then.

The drive was short, per usual. It was a really good day for what they were going to do. Sunny, but huge patches of clouds in the sky that would be much appreciated with the late August heat. 

Jack pulled into the parking lot of the bakery and parked near the back of the lot, they were leaving their cars there to walk around the city and he didn’t want to take up a spot someone might need. He parked his car and waited. His nerves almost instantaneously kicking into high gear as the engine shut off. 

Jack gripped his steering wheel tight, fingers going white where he held. He took a deep breath, in through the mouth, out through the nose. It was fine. No one would notice them. No one would care. 

A grey car parked next to him, windows dark, and music so loud Jack could feel the bass in his car. Jack smiled, grabbed his phone, and hopped out of the car. He tucked his phone and keys away and walked around to the other side of the car as Eric was standing up out of his own car. 

“Hi, Jack,” he said, happy and loud with a small wave. He smiled wide, slamming his car door shut and walking to meet him where he stood. Eric looked good. Jack thought he always looked good, even when he had an apron wrapped around him, but today he had the arms of his tucked in denim button up shirt rolled to his elbows, paired with navy blue shorts, and his hair was neater than Jack had seen before. He looked good. Shit, he looked good. Jack let his eyes roam over him for a minute before looking up to Bittle’s face, his face heating up as he noticed Eric’s eyes looking up and down his frame. Jack scratched the back of his head and coughed. Eric snapped wide eyes to Jack’s, embarrassment written all over his face. 

“Did I interrupt something?” Jack asked, as the corner of his mouth pulled into a grin. 

“Very funny, Mr. Zimmermann,” Eric said, crossing his arms over his chest. Jack could see the blush creeping up his collar. His mind traveled to thoughts of how low that blush went on his chest, did it go lower? Jack wanted to see it go lower. Jack felt his face heat up again and mentally shook the thoughts from his mind. 

“So, if you’re done can we get going?” Jack teased. Eric huffed, marched forward, and grabbed Jack’s forearm, pulling him in the direction of the sidewalk. Jack’s heart rate sped up at his touch, hand firm and steady on his skin. “I swear,” Eric mumbled under his breath. 

Jack laughed, following Eric as he pulled him along by the arm.

“How was practice?” Eric finally asked when they’d crossed the parking lot and began to walk down the streets of the city. He dropped his hand from Jack’s arm and turned to look at him. 

“It was...rough,” Jack said honestly, this morning’s practice had been rough. They had exactly three weeks before preseason practice began and Jack had worked himself hard today. He felt like he had so much to catch up to on the team, so he pushed. And pushed. And pushed until his trainer yelled at him to hit the showers. 

“Are you tired?” Eric asked panicked, “We can do dinner another night if you are, I don’t want—”

“Eric,” Jack said, calmly, even though his mind was vehemently rejecting the idea of not spending the majority of this day with Eric, “I’m not tired. I’d tell you if I was.”

Eric visibly relaxed, the easy smile he wore sliding back into place on his lips. Jack pulled his eyes away from Eric’s mouth and smiled at him. 

“Where are we going first?”

“Well,” Eric said holding up a finger and reaching into his pocket for his phone. Jack watched as he unlocked his phone, noticing his background was some woman in high heels and a sparkly one piece bathing suit. She looked familiar. Maybe. “I made a list for us!” Eric said, clicking on his notes app after dismissing a few twitter notifications. 

Eric held the phone between them, still walking down the sidewalk, and let Jack see it. Jack grabbed the phone from Eric, their fingers brushing together momentarily as he took the device.

There was a long list. Parks, zoos, museums, hotels, restaurants, and stores. Eric had made this for him and Jack was annoyed at the swoop in his stomach when he thought about that. 

Eric Bittle was going to ruin him. 

“This list looks pretty expansive to get done in one day,” Jack said jokingly, handing the phone back to Eric.

“Well I was hoping this wouldn’t be the only date we went on,” Eric said looking at Jack quickly before looking away. 

Jack curled and uncurled his hands in to fists at his side, fingers twitching to touch Eric again. 

“You say that now, but just wait.” 

“Do you turn into an ogre at nightfall?” Eric laughed, turning at the next intersection. Jack followed behind him as group of teenage boys in backwards baseball caps walked past them, taking up most of the sidewalk. “Am I on a date with Princess Fiona?”

“Something like that,” Jack said as he caught back up to Eric in two strides, walking so close to him now that his hand brushed against Eric’s as he went. He wanted to grab Eric’s hand. He didn’t know if he could though. Was that too forward? Would someone notice them? Were his hands sweaty? Jack rubbed his hands on his jeans and turned to face Eric—who was no longer beside him. 

Jack froze, turned around puzzled, and saw Eric standing in front of a small little doorway a few feet back. Jack shook his head, and mentally chided himself for getting so caught up in his head that he’d let that happen. 

“A little warning next time, eh?”

“No, I don’t mind watching you walk ahead,” Eric said smoothly, his hand on his hip, before he started laughing. 

Jack didn’t know how to respond without looking like an idiot, so he slid his hands into his pockets, stood next to him, and bumped him with his shoulder.

“Whenever you’re done, I’d like to know where we’re going.”

“We’re getting gelato!” Eric said excitedly as he looked up to Jack, fanning himself with his hand, “And then we’re going to the Roger Williams.”

“Fine, I’m buying.” Jack said, having finally read the sign on the doorway, and walked into the shop, brushing past Eric. 

“This boy,” Jack heard Eric say in a huff as he followed him into the tiny shop. 

* * *

The park had taken longer than expected. But Jack saw some really odd looking geese and decided to take some pictures. So it had really been Jack’s fault that their whole afternoon had been pushed back. The went through the zoo because, “You have to, Jack. You can’t live here and not go.” Which actually turned out to be fun. Eric took it upon himself to name every single animal they encountered after current music icons, which then turned into a lesson on current musicians for Jack after Eric, horrified by his lack of knowledge, asked him to name one Beyonce song and he couldn’t.

Eric talked a lot. But Jack couldn’t find it in him to mind. Their conversation was easy and tinged with jokes and chirps at one another and Jack really fucking liked it. 

As they left the park, the sky was fading, all the colors blending together as the sun set, half the sky already a deep navy. 

Jack’s stomach growled audibly and his eyes went wide as Eric laughed at him. 

“I think that’s the sign that’s it’s time for dinner, eh?” Jack smiled, Eric’s laughter infectious. 

“I think so,” Eric agreed, “I thought we could walk over towards the WaterFire and eat somewhere close and then go see it after?”

“Yeah that sounds great,” Jack said, he didn’t care what they did as long as he got to keep hearing Eric laugh and talk, “Lead the way.”

* * *

Dinner was nice. Jack had Eric order for him, which Eric said was, “way too much pressure, Mr. Zimmermann.” But he did a good job. He’d ordered some chicken dish with tomatoes and olives and it was delicious. Eric had gotten something with artichokes. Their easy conversation continued throughout the meal and, by the time they started fighting over the check, Jack was full and happy and two glasses of red wine deep, and he was having a wonderful time with Eric.  _ Because _ of Eric. After Eric had successfully stolen the check and paid for them, they walked to the WaterFire sculpture which was interesting. They didn’t stay long though, long enough to watch the flames dance around the water for a few minutes, but then Jack yawned, and Eric followed suit, and they both decided to call it a night.

They began walking back across town on deserted sidewalk streets, it was a Wednesday night after all. As Eric laughed at something Jack had said about one of his teammates, Jack was suddenly seized by the want, no the need, to hold Eric’s hand. He looked around them, biting his lower lip with nerves, before sliding his palm against Eric’s. He thought his stomach might literally twist itself into a knot as he gripped Eric’s warm hand in his and slid his fingers between Eric’s. He felt Eric falter in his stride before he looked down to their interlocked hands quickly and then back up to Jack smiling.

“I’ve had a really great time tonight,” Jack said as they kept walking, the street lamps bright as they walked from one circle of light to the next. Jack didn’t even know what time it was. He hadn’t checked his phone since the zoo. He didn’t really care. 

“Me too, Jack,” Eric said softly, as they rounded the corner that led to the Bakery. 

“I’m paying next time though,” Jack said, squeezing Eric’s hand.

“Oh bless your heart, you keep thinkin’ that,” Eric said as he brought his other hand over to pat the top of Jack’s. Jack smiled at the accent that had slipped out, more pronounced with alcohol or maybe exhaustion, Jack wasn’t sure which yet. But he’d find out. He wanted to find out everything about Eric Bittle. 

Jack was so happy, he thought, as they turned into the parking lot and headed towards their cars. He didn’t want to leave. But he had to. He had to be at the training center by 9am. The thought made him tilt his head back and groan.

“What?” Eric asked, as they stopped in front of their cars, facing each other. Eric didn’t let go of his hand and began rubbing a small circle on his skin with his thumb. 

“I don’t want to leave,” Jack said, laughing at himself as he looked down to Eric. His eyes were a little heavy, flicking down to Jack’s lips occasionally, his cheeks stained pink in the light of the street lamps in the parking lot, and he was biting his bottom lip between his teeth. 

Jack didn’t let himself think about it as he pulled his hand away from Eric’s and brought it up to his face before leaning forward and pressing their lips together. Eric gasped, soft and small, between their mouths before he leaned into the kiss. Eric’s hand slid up Jack’s chest to grab a handful of fabric, pulling Jack closer to him, while the other hung around Jack’s waist. Eric’s lips were soft, the kiss was slow and warm, and Jack could smell Eric’s sweet scent all around him. Like it was crawling under his skin. He felt Eric grip his waist harder, their bodies flush against one another now, as Jack slid his hand through Eric’s blonde hair, down to the base of his head, opening his mouth to their kiss. Eric obliged him immediately, licking a line across Jack’s lips with his tongue before kissing him deeper. Jack felt himself being pushed backwards by Eric’s strong hands, as their mouth separated. He watched Eric’s swollen lips break into a smile as he felt the front of his SUV meet with his back. Eric slid his fingers into Jack’s hair, as they leaned their foreheads together breathing one another in. And then Eric pulled Jack’s head down and kissed him again, sliding his leg between Jack’s. Jack was going to melt. He was already hard, straining against the seam in his pants, Eric’s thigh pressing right where he needed it, his mouth hot and shitshitshit.

Jack pulled his head back, breaking their kiss with a deep breath, like he was coming back up for air. He leaned their foreheads together again, pushing Eric back just a bit. “We can’t do this here,” Jack said, he could hear the roughness in his voice. 

“Then let’s go somewhere,” Eric said, his hand running up and down Jack’s side, electricity in his veins.

They could. They could be back at Jack’s house in five minutes. He could have his hands all over Eric’s skin in eight. Jack groaned, the idea so tantalizing that he almost just went with it, hockey be damned. But that wasn’t how Jack Zimmermann was. 

“Not tonight,” he said, kissing Eric’s lips again, softer, trying to get himself in check. 

“C’mon, Jack,” Eric said smiling, stepping farther away from him, “Take me back to your house.”

“I will,” Jack said, running his thumb under Eric’s eye. “Not tonight, but I will.” 

Eric smiled, pressing his face against Jack’s palm and closed his eyes. 

“Fine,” he sighed, straightening up and smoothing the wrinkles on Jack’s chest that he’d created. He smiled up at Jack as he took another step back, their hands finding one another again, “I’m holding you to that.”

“I hope you do.”

“Get out of here,” Eric laughed, pulling his hand away from Jack, “Before I decide not to let you.”

Jack adjusted his jeans, smiled at Eric one last time, and leaned forward to press a quick kiss against his lips.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” Jack said, as he pulled away and walked around to his driver door, hands shaking with excitement and lips tingling. 

“Bye, Jack,” Eric said and Jack could hear the smile in Eric’s voice as he climbed into the front seat of his car.

Jack shut the door, started the car, and leaned his head against the headrest.  _ Eric Bittle _ . 

* * *

Jack hadn’t meant to make it a routine to stop by the bakery on his days off, but that’s what had happened. It had been a week and a half now since their date and he’d been by six times. He’d wake up, hit the gym or an open skate, do some laundry or something at his house, and usually by 1pm he was walking into the bakery and ordering a cup of coffee. Occasionally, if Eric was working the register, he’d end up with a slice of pie shoved in his hand too. He liked the bakery. Yes, he went to be around Eric and talk to him for a while if he wasn’t too busy, but he also enjoyed the atmosphere. It was quiet, the people were nice, and most importantly no one talked to him about hockey. Jack loved hockey. He loved it with every fiber of his being. But, the days he didn’t have to talk about it or he could pretend he didn’t play were nice. Especially right before season was about to begin. He got to take a break from his competitive mindset and just be a twenty-five year old living in a new city. Exploring new places. Having crushes on blonde bakers. Going on dates with said blonde bakers.

They texted sporadically. Jack wasn’t a good texter. He knew that. Everyone always chirped him for it, so Jack coming to the Bakery and talking to Eric in person was easier for him. 

Eric had been in the back when he had first gotten there today. He’d ordered a cup of coffee from Anna, the brown haired cashier who was on break from University, and grabbed his usual seat at the booth facing the window.

He’d brought a book with him today. A large non-fiction novel about Andrew Jackson that he’d been reading for a few days now. He took a drink of his coffee and looked at the message from Shitty that he’d gotten earlier. He and Lardo were coming by tonight, seeing as it would be one of the last times they’d get to until the season lulled a bit. Jack was excited. The most recent message was asking him to bring Eric to dinner with them tonight. Jack was nervous about that. He knew Eric would get along with both of them, He knew Lardo and Shitty would love him, but it seemed so soon. They’d only gone on one date, two if you counted the night they walked across the street from the Bakery and grabbed pizza after the bakery had closed. The pizza was good, but making out with Eric was better. They’d ended up pressed against Jack’s car again, Jack’s hands sliding up Eric’s sides as he huffed quiet moans into Jack’s mouth. Jack had left their date hard and had jerked off to the memory of Eric’s warm frame pressed against him that night, and most of the nights afterward. 

He saw Eric frequently. Not always for long, but long enough to realize how much he was falling into the trap that was Eric Bittle. His smile. His laugh. His accent. His lips. Jack flipped his phone over, he’d ask him when he saw him later. He was going to do it. He had to….what if he couldn’t go? It was late notice? Maybe he had other pla—

“Hey, Jack,” Eric called, dragging his hand across Jack’s shoulders as he put a slice of pie in front of him and sat to his right. 

Jack smiled, looking first at the pie, which looked wonderful, and then at Eric, who also looked wonderful.

“You know my nutritionist is going to wonder why I’ve gained weight,” Jack deadpanned, staring at Eric. 

“Please,” Eric said dismissively, picking up Jack’s book and staring at the cover, “Just give the nutritionist a slice of my pie and then he’ll understand.” 

“Doubtful.”

Jack grabbed the fork that Eric had brought with him and shoveled a bite of the Maple Sugar pie into his mouth. Goddamn it was good.

“So?” Eric asked, “Good enough for a Canadian?”

“This tastes better than my Grandmother’s,” Jack said honestly. 

Eric leaned forward and pressed his lips to Jack’s, quick and light. “Now that sure is a compliment.” 

Jack flicked his eyes around the bakery, making sure no one was watching them, as Jack pressed his lips against Eric’s again.

“Will you come get dinner with my friends and I after you’re done tonight?” Jack asked after he’d pulled away from the kiss, needing to ask while he was still sure of himself. He guessed kissing Eric did that to him. 

Eric leaned back to sit in his chair, “Which friends?”

“Shitty and Lardo.”

“I can’t believe your best friend’s name is Shitty.”

“It fits, okay,” Jack laughed, grabbing Eric’s hand off the table, “You have a friend named Chowder, you don’t see me questioning it.”

Eric smiled and nodded his head, “Yeah, I can go. Where?”

“Shitty wants pizza and he doesn’t want to have to wear a dress shirt.”

“Geno’s?” Eric asked, naming the pizza place that was a few blocks away. 

“Is that okay with you?” Jack asked, because he needed to.

“Yeah, absolutely.” Eric said squeezing his hand, “I just need to get changed after work, do you want to pick me up on the way there?” It was close to where Eric had said he lived, so that would be the smartest thing to do.

“I’ll text you when we leave?”

“Alright,” Eric nodded again, standing up and letting Jack’s hand fall away, “I have sixteen pies to make for Kirkwood’s menu this weekend so I’ll be done around 6.” 

“Alright, see you later,” Jack smiled as Eric leaned down one more time to kiss him before heading back to the kitchen. 

Jack took another bite of the Sugar Pie and cracked open his book to where he left off. 

* * *

“Dude!” Shitty yelled, jumping on Jack, hanging around his neck, “You’re actually bringing him with us?”

“Niceee,” Lardo said from behind them. “Didn’t think that request would go through.”

Jack turned around, shoving Shitty off of him, who promptly clung back to him to wrap him in a hug. “I missed you, Zimms.” 

“You too, Shits,” Jack said, hugging him back tight. 

“And I especially missed this beautiful thing,” Shitty said as he smacked his palm against Jack’s ass, laughing. 

“Pretty sure he missed your ass more than you, dude,” Lardo said as she shoved Shitty away from Jack and wrapped her arms around his waist. Her hair was longer than the last time he’d seen her, the tips dyed red. She looked happy. They both did. Jack squeezed her small frame tight and lifted her feet off the ground.

“Okay, put me down,” she yelled into his chest, punching him hard, “tell me about Eric.”

Jack rubbed his pec where she’d punched him and turned to head into the kitchen. 

“No.”

“Dude.” Lardo said, following him.

“You’ll meet him tonight,”Jack said grabbing his forgotten water bottle from the island. “We’re picking him up around 7.” 

Lardo stared at him for a minute, her eyes roaming across his face, “Fine,” she nodded. 

“Dude,” Shitty yelled from somewhere in the house, “You’ve got a fucking heated toilet seat are you fuckin’ kidding me. Why didn’t you share that information?”

Jack shook his head and looked at Lardo who was laughing, before she left to go find Shitty. 

Jack grinned into the empty kitchen and followed. 

* * *

Jack was simultaneously trying to look for Eric’s house and not wreck his car. He hadn’t failed yet but he didn’t know how much longer he’d be able to say that. Shitty was sitting shotgun, staring at Jack’s phone and the text Eric had sent him that included his address.

“Eric said it was the third house on the right after the third stop sign,” Jack said, remembering the message from earlier.

“So that should be,” Shitty said throwing half of his body out the window of Jack’s SUV, “right there, that one.” He pointed to the house that should have been Eric’s as Jack pulled up against the curb in front of the house. It was a nice house, small, a decent yard, lots of flowers, and a giant metal pie sign staked in the ground.

“This is it,” Jack laughed, parking the car and grabbing his phone from Shitty.

“Dude, is that a pie?” He heard Lardo ask from the back seat, as he texted Eric to let him know he was there.

He watched the house, saw the lights inside snap off, and the front door open wide as Eric, carrying what was clearly a pie in his arms, emerged. He turned around for a moment and then jogged down the sidewalk to the car. He waved, phone still in hand as he did so, and Lardo popped open the door for him. 

“Hey, Bro,” Shitty said, with a salute. Jesus, Shitty. 

“Hey y’all!” Eric said, voice slightly higher than normal, as he climbed into the backseat, shutting the door behind him. “I’m Eric Bittle.”

Shitty launched himself back into the car and whipped around to lean between the two front seats and look at Eric. 

“I’m Shitty. Bittle, hmm,” Jack heard him muse, catching Eric’s eyes in the rearview mirror, “You care if I call you Bitty?”

“Uh?, Eric’s eyes flitted to Jack’s again in the rearview, puzzled and probably scared. Jack laughed, watching him, “Sure?”

“Swasome.”

“Excuse me?” Eric asked, amused.

“Samwell lingo,” Shitty said, turning around to sit in his seat properly as Jack pulled on to Eric’s street and drove. “Sorry, Bits, it’s a habit for life.” 

Jack huffed out a small laugh through his nose as he watched Eric’s eyebrows raise in the rearview mirror. 

“Did you get all the pies done?” Jack asked, as he swung right and headed back down the highway towards Geno’s. 

“Did I get all the pies done?” Eric mocked, holding up the pie he had brought with him, “Do you know who you’re talking to, Mr. Zimmermann? Of course I got all the pies done. And I still had time to make an extra.”

“What kind?” Lardo asked, and Jack heard the wrinkling of tin foil behind him, “Oh, dude that looks great. I’m Larissa by the way. You can call me Lardo, everyone does.”

“Thank you!” Eric said, his voice higher than normal, excited, “It’s nice to meet y’all!”

“You brought us pie, bro,” Shitty said, “the pleasure is ours.” He faced the front of the car and elbowed Jack in the ribs. “And we wanted to see who Jack’s been talking about so much.”

Jack’s face was on fire, he was sure of it. He gripped the wheel tighter, pointedly staring straight ahead at the minimal traffic on the road, avoiding Eric’s eyes in the mirror. Goddamnit Shitty. 

“Well he talks about y’all nonstop too, so I was pretty intrigued,” Eric said. Jack couldn’t help it as his eyes flicked to him again in the mirror. So much for self control. Eric’s neck was a little pink and when he locked eyes with Jack a shy smile spread across his lips. 

Jack looked back to the road, biting the inside of his cheeks to stop the smile pulling at his lips and stopped at an intersection. Eric and Lardo were discussing the pie he’d brought, Shitty was messing with the radio, and as Jack stepped on the gas, he realized he hadn’t felt this at home in Providence since he moved here. He stopped fighting the smile. 

* * *

“Dude, no!” Lardo said, smacking Shitty on the arm as he dipped half of his pizza slice into his beer. “That’s illegal defacement of a quality alcoholic beverage.You’re ruining that beer. ”

“I think the word you’re looking for is bettering.” 

“No, Shits,” Jack said, staring across the table at him as he chomped down on the soggy pizza crust, “that’s sick.”

“To each his own.”

“I bet it’s good,” Eric said next to Jack, pressing his hand against Jack’s thigh to lean forward and grab another piece of pizza, Jack’s whole body tensing at the touch. He’d been doing little things like this all night, small touches, grazes of his ankle against Jack’s, rubbing the inside of Jack’s wrist when his hand was sitting between them on the booth seat. He was driving him crazy. Jack felt like all of his nerves were on edge and he wanted to take Eric back to his house and match every touch Eric had given him with his lips. 

Jack grabbed his beer from the table and took a long pull, all his attention on Eric’s hand as his thumb smoothed over the fabric of his jeans. 

“Bitty don’t.” Lardo said loudly, her face disgusted. Eric’s hand moved from Jack’s leg to hold his beer steady as he dunked the end of his pizza slice into the glass. 

“Gotta be adventurous as a baker, y’all,” He laughed before shoving the pizza in his mouth. 

“Atta boy.” Shitty exclaimed, lifting his hand for a fistbump that Eric immediately returned as he chewed on the pizza. 

“It’s really not bad,” Eric said, tilting his head to the side as he stared at the dripping pizza. 

Jack laughed into his glass as Lardo groaned and Eric turned towards him, hand sliding back on to his thigh. “Try it, Jack,” Eric said, holding the pizza out to him. Jack shook his head, setting his glass down and turning towards Eric in the booth. 

“Yeah, c’mon, Zimms!” Shitty called

“No,” Jack said, staring at Eric, taking in his grin and his freckled cheeks, still acutely aware of his hand on his leg “not happening.”

“You’re no fun,” Eric said as he closed the, shorter than Jack had realized, distance between them and kissed him full on the lips, quick and around a smile. He pulled back before Jack could even reciprocate, leaving his hand firmly on Jack’s thigh as he turned back to the other people at the table. Jack ran a hand through his hair and turned in time to see Lardo’s surprised face, eyes on Jack and her eyebrows raised. He couldn’t blame her, this- this thing that he and Eric had was new for them. Hell, It was new for Jack. He’d never been public about any relationship in the past, he’d never had a relationship in the past to be public with. But everything in this city was new for him, maybe he was new too. Maybe Eric did that to people. Jack gave Lardo a small smile and shrugged.

* * *

They dropped Eric off at his house after dinner, Shitty relinquishing shotgun privileges to him to sit in the back with Lardo. He claimed it was only fair, but Jack was almost certain he sat in the back because he’d snuck a fork out of the restaurant and had started in on Eric’s pie as soon as he got in the car, groaning in delight the whole way to Eric’s.

Eric leaned across the console to kiss Jack again, letting Jack return the kiss before he opened the door and jumped out of front seat with promises to call them all the next morning after he finished his delivery of baked goods to a few restaurants.

Jack’s eyes followed him as he walked up his sidewalk and to his front door, turning to wave at them all before he walked inside and shut the door. 

“Dude, you’re so gone,” Lardo said, smacking him on the arm before crawling between the front seats and sliding into the passenger seat. 

“Shut up.”

“That wasn’t a denial.”

And it wasn’t. 

* * *

Shitty and Lardo had left on Monday afternoon. They’d been sitting on the couch, stuff packed and ready to go, when Jack walked into his house after practice. Jack wasn’t happy that they were going. He’d been in bad mood all day at the rink and his teammates had noticed. He stopped free skate an hour early to hit the weight room because he couldn’t concentrate on what he was doing. At least weightlifting was mindless. Jack liked it in Providence. His teammates were warming up to him, he was excited for the season, and Eric was always right down the road, but having Shitty and Lardo there had made him feel so at ease. Talking on Skype wasn’t the same. He missed them so much and knew after they left he’d feel it even more having had them back for a while. Jack kept a smile on his face as they grabbed all their bags and headed towards the door.

“Kill it, Zimms,” Shity had said, wrapping his arm around Jack’s neck. 

“Remind Bits to text me about that pie recipe, okay?” Lardo asked, looping her arm around Jack’s waist and laying her head against his chest. “Don’t get too caught up in your head, Jack. You always put so much pressure on yourself and worry so damn much and you don’t need to, dude. Everything’ll work out.” 

“Yeah, Bro,” Shitty said, walking towards the door, “And stop fucking worrying about Eric. He’s a big boy, Zimms. He can make his own decisions.”

Jack shook his head and laughed, regretting the words that had spewed out of his mouth after they’d all had pizza. He hadn’t meant to sit up talking to them about his fears with dating Eric, not being able to be seen in public being a couple together, the season being so demanding that they probably wouldn’t see much of each other for a while, not being ready to come out publicly. Jack had kept everything he feared about dating Eric so buried that when he’d finally mentioned the issue out loud, everything came out without his control and he’d ended up with his hands shaking and his breaths getting shallow before Lardo and Shitty could calm him down. 

But he felt better now. Lardo and Shitty had talked to him and let him get all his worries out on the table. They cared about him. They wanted him to be happy and healthy, and Jack knew he couldn’t have gotten any luckier with the friends he’d made at Samwell.

Which was why it was so hard watching them leave again. Jack’s hands were gripped into fists at his side and he forced a smile across his face as Lardo and Shitty turned around and waved at the end of the hall before heading downstairs. 

Jack looked at the empty hallway, his throat feeling tight, blinking his eyes. He walked into his house, shut the door, and grabbed his phone out of his pocket before sliding down the door and sitting on the floor. He texted Eric. 

Jack [12:58pm]: Lardo wants the pie recipe

Eric [12:59pm]: :D 

Jack smiled at his phone screen and sent another message.

Jack [1:00pm]:what are you doing tonight?

Eric [1:00pm]: nothing. have something in mind?

Jack [1:01pm]: Let’s get dinner

Jack [1:01pm]: I’m buying.

Eric [1:02pm]: you can’t buy every time! :( 

Eric [1:02pm]: you bought on Friday

Jack [1:03pm]: You gave us a whole pie. We’re even. I’m buying.

Eric [1:04pm]: fine. but I’m picking you up. what time should I be there?

Jack stood up from his seat on the ground and walked to his fridge to grab a protein shake from the door. He hadn’t actually thought about where they should go, so he went to his photo roll and looked at the screenshot Eric had sent him of the list of places he needed to go in Providence. The first name that stuck out to him was Cafe Nuvo so he googled it. It was an upscale place, pricy, lots of weird options, big dessert menu, it would do. He clicked on the reserve a table button and got a reservation at 8. That would give Eric enough time to get home after work and do what he needed before they went.

He texted Eric the name of the restaurant and the reservation time and set his phone on the counter to down his protein shake. 

His phone vibrated on the counter and he tossed his blender bottle in the sink before grabbing it.

Eric [1:12pm]: !!!!!!! 

Eric [1:12pm]: i’ll pick you up at 7:40 :D

Jack smiled at his screen again, thankful that no one could see the idiotic grin he knew was on his face. 

Jack [1:13pm]: Sounds good

* * *

Jack still wasn’t over how good Eric looked tonight as he sat across from him at the table. He was in a fitted white button up shirt, the first two buttons undone, driving Jack wild with the need to press his lips there. Jack shook himself from those thoughts and concentrated on the story Eric was telling about his MeMaw’s tractor incident with lots of hand movements.

“And then, bless her heart,” Eric said, bringing his hand up to his chest, “She drove the thing all the way to the 82 market in town and bought a gallon of milk.” 

Jack let out a laugh through his nose at the image Eric had painted in his mind of his 87 year old Grandmother riding down the highway in her nightgown and rain boots to get her milk.  

“She’s a rogue one, that’s for sure,” Eric said as he took another drink of wine before returning his glass to the table, “God forbid anyone ever try to put her in a home, she’d probably burn the place down.” 

Jack smiled at him and Eric smiled back, sliding his ankle up Jack’s as he took another bite from his pasta. Jack took another sip of wine, watching Eric as he enjoyed himself. Jack was struck with the thought that he wouldn’t mind seeing Eric this happy for the rest of his life. And then immediately choked on his wine because he’d only known Eric for a short time, and his brain was conjuring thoughts that were going to get him in trouble. 

They talked throughout the entire meal, laughter coming easily as they were brought so many courses Jack lost count. Eric’s ankle remained a pleasant weight against his calf for the entire meal. Jack was so content, he wanted to stay here all night, he thought as the waiter brought out their desserts, but he could feel the worry at the back of his mind build as he took a bite of his Creme Brulee.

“This is great,” Jack said, watching Eric’s expression as he dug into his dessert. He’d ordered some chocolate raspberry thing. Jack wasn’t sure if it was a cake not, but it that looked way too rich for him to stomach, but Eric seemed to enjoy it.

“Next time we go out, we’re going to Monroe’s. If you think that Creme Brulee is good wait until you try theirs,” Eric said, licking the back of his spoon.

Next time, Jack thought, taking another bite, another date, with Eric. 

The calmness he’d managed to achieve over his worries wore off, with the thought. Jack felt his body tense. He hated this. He couldn’t let it sit anymore. He was having such a good night and if Eric was going to, understandably, stop seeing him after this, he had to get it over with. 

Jack took a deep breath, pushing his dessert plate away from him. 

“Look, Eric,” Jack said,looking around the dining area, thankful for the dark lighting and limited seating of the restaurant, “I need to talk to you about something.”

“Is everything okay?” Eric asked, straightening up in his chair, worry all over his face. Jack felt awful making him feel that, so accustomed to it himself. 

“No, everything’s fine,” Jack said, attempting a smile, which probably looked more like a grimace. Eric didn’t look convinced. “I know we’ve only gone a few dates, but I don’t know, I feel like it’s more than something casual with you and I really like you but there are so many things about me that should make you want to get as far away from me while we’re still just casual.” Shitty would have punched him if he’d heard him say that.

“What do you mean, Jack?” Eric said, his eyebrows scrunching together. 

“I just — ” Jack sighed, running his hand through his hair, needing to do something with his hands. “I won’t be able to date you like a normal guy would be able to date you. You shouldn’t want that for yourself and I understand if you don’t.”

“Jack,” Eric said, his features smoothing out and his lips pulling into a small smile, “It won’t — ”

“Just let me say all this and then you can call me an idiot and tell me I’m overreacting like Shitty and Lardo have 500 times,” Jack said putting his hands in his lap, “I know I’m overreacting. That’s how I work. But I have to say this.” He looked into Eric’s eyes, needing him to understand. 

“Okay, I’m listening,” Eric said, reaching forward and taking another bite of his dessert in front of him.

“I can’t come out in the NHL. Not yet, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to,” Jack said bluntly. He’d already accepted that fact, known it since he was in the Juniors, the mentality wasn’t there yet for players like him. “I can’t tell people I’m dating you. I can’t hold your hand in public unless we’re by ourselves. I can’t kiss you without looking around the room to make sure no one’s paying attention.” Jack felt his chest tightening, as he looked away from Eric’s face. He took a deep breath, staring at his hands. “There are so many things I can’t give you if we do this, Eric. And preseason is starting in a week and a half and our schedules are outrageous. I don’t even know how much I would be in this city with all of our games...,” Jack trailed off, grabbing his wine glass and taking a deep drink. He hated feeling this way. He hated having to set all this out there. He hated —

“Are you done?” Eric asked, snapping Jack from his thoughts. Eric was smiling as Jack lifted his head to look at him. It was Jack’s turn to wear the puzzled expression. 

“I — uh — yeah. Yeah, I’m done.” 

“Good,” Eric said, eyes flitting around the room before reaching across the table and grabbing one of Jack’s hand, “I just have a question.”

“Okay.”

“Do you want to date me, Jack?”

Jack stared at him and squeezed Eric’s hand, looking at their intertwined fingers, “God, yes,” he said, his voice strained with want.

Eric smiled, easy and like Jack’s whole night wasn’t being flipped upside down, “Okay, then we’re doing this.” 

“But I just told you all of the things — ” Jack said, eyebrows shooting up his forehead.

“Yes you did. I heard them. And now I’m going to repeat myself,” he said, still smiling, “Jack Zimmermann, do you want to date me?”

“Yes.” 

“Good,” Eric said, nodding his head once before squeezing Jack’s hand again, ”Now slide your dessert over here because I want to be good and sure that I’m right about Monroe’s being better when we go.”

* * *

Eric pulled up to Jack’s house, and before he could put the car in park to let Jack out, Jack instructed him to drive around to the parking lot and park.

“If you want to, I mean,” Jack said. Maybe he was being too forward.

Eric looked over at him, reaching his hand across the console to grab Jack’s thigh as he answered, “I’m excited to see your place finally.” 

“I’ll give you the grand tour,” Jack laughed as Eric pulled up to the garage entrance and Jack told him the code to key in. Eric parked and they both got out of the car.

Jack walked to the back of the car, grabbing Eric’s hand in his as they walked to the entrance of the building and over to the elevators. 

Jack clicked the button to call the elevator and waited as Eric slid his hand out of Jack’s and looped it across his waist. Jack turned to him and kissed him, leaning down slightly to meet his lips. So soft and sweet, the traces of their dessert still present as he kissed Jack back. The elevator dinged, signaling its arrival, and Jack pulled back, leaving his arm around Eric’s shoulders and they walked through the doors. He clicked the eight on the panel of buttons and stepped to the back of the elevator, Eric still holding him. 

The doors closed and Eric didn’t waste any time continuing their kiss, as he slid his hand into Jack’s hair and pulled him down so their lips could meet again. They kissed slow, lips moving together in unison as Eric pressed himself closer to Jack. 

“We could do the tour another time,” Eric said against Jack’s lips. Jack felt a twist of excitement in his stomach at the words, as Eric trailed his lips to Jack’s ear, “I can think of a few things I’d rather do tonight.”

The sound Jack made was something strangled and low in his chest, the thought of finally getting his hands on Eric’s warm skin clouding any previous ideas he had. 

The elevator dinged and Eric jumped back, separating himself from Jack in one step. Jack looked to the wide open elevator doors, empty, but sitting idle at his floor. 

“C’mon,” Jack laughed, grabbing Eric’s hand and pulling him out of the elevator with him.

“Good Lord,” Eric said next to him, sounding breathless, “I thought for sure someone was getting on.”

Jack felt a pang of disappointment slide into his chest. Eric would have to get used to being cautious like that. Jack felt his mood shift, his earlier worries back nipping at his thoughts again as he unlocked his front door and let Eric inside behind him. 

“I’m sorry,” Jack said as he turned back from locking the door.

“Why?” Eric asked as he kicked off his tan shoes by the door. 

“I don’t want you to have to feel nervous to kiss me somewhere in public,” Jack said, taking off his suit jacket and hanging it in his hall closet. 

“Jack,” Eric sighed, walking to stand in front of Jack, “I thought I made it clear earlier, I don’t care. I’m in for all of it.”

“You don’t deserve that,” Jack said, meaning his words but wanting to cry out in joy at hearing Eric’s, reassuring him again. 

“Neither do you.” 

Eric’s hands slid under the fabric of Jack’s shirt, warm and soft, just like his words. 

He leaned forward, pressing his cheek against Jack’s. “Now take my clothes off,” he said, his breath hot in Jack’s ear as he pulled Jack’s head over to meet his, kissing him hard, his tongue sliding into Jack’s mouth. A jump of arousal coursed through Jack’s abdomen, settling between his legs. Jack felt a moan leave his lips, uncontrollable and needy. 

Which was true he needed Eric. He wanted Eric. All of him. 

Jack ran his hands up Eric’s abdomen, feeling the toned muscles beneath his warm skin as he slid his hands higher, over his chest and to his shoulders, pushing his shirt off as he went. Jack kissed wherever he could get his mouth, sucking lightly at the skin of his neck, biting where his collar bone protruded, tasted the sweet skin that he’d been thinking about for weeks. Eric moaned, arching slightly into Jack and then pushed Jack away from him, his hands sliding higher up Jack’s sides, taking his shirt with him.

“Off,” Eric said, his rough voice sending a shock of arousal straight to Jack’s dick. Jack grabbed the hem of his shirt and yanked it over his head. He threw it on the ground behind him and let his eyes roam over Eric’s shirtless form. Jack watched Eric do the same to him, saw the bulge in his tight pants, the heaving of his chest. 

_ “Merde _ .”

“What did you just say?” Eric asked, walking towards him again, his hands going immediately to the band of his pants, thumbing the button there and planting a kiss to the hollow of Jack’s neck.

“It’s french,” Jack said, as he ran his hands up Eric’s arms, to his neck, and held his head between his hands. 

Eric met his eyes, “Well whatever it was, it was hot.”

Jack smiled, leaning down to kiss Eric again. “ _ Somptueux, _ ” He said against Eric’s lips. 

He felt Eric smile as he backed away from him, his warm hands falling from his waist. 

“Let’s go to your room,” he said, reaching his hand out for Jack’s. 

Jack took his hand in his and pulled him down the hall and up the stairs, not bothering to stop and give him a tour. They could do that another day, Jack didn’t care about etiquette. He pushed the door to his room open and flipped on the lights, thankful that he’d straightened up he day before. 

“Jesus, Jack,” Eric said, walking past him and dropping his hand. He walked up to the dark wooden baseboard and rubbed his hand across the surface. “This is probably the biggest bed I’ve ever seen.”

“Well,” Jack said, his hand running through the back of his hair, “they say you spend twenty-five percent of your life sleeping so…”

“Bless your heart,” Eric laughed, before he walked back over to Jack and grabbed him by the belt loops. He pulled Jack flush against him, Eric’s erection pressing into his thigh and kissed him again. Jack slid his hands around Eric’s waist, dipping his fingers beneath his waistband and felt Eric arch into his touch as he moved his mouth down to Jack’s neck, kissing and sucking and driving Jack insane. He needed more. He needed to feel him closer. 

Jack was the one who moved them this time. He pushed Eric backwards, step by step until he felt the back of Eric’s legs meet the bed and pushed him down to sit. Eric looked up to Jack, licked his bottom lip, and leaned back on his hands.

Jack dropped to his knees. He brought his hands to Eric’s stomach, running down his smooth skin, following his light trail of hair with his fingers before sliding lower, dragging down his thighs. 

He brought his hands up to Eric’s belt, unhooking it before he made easy work of his button and zipper. He pulled at Eric’s pants, sliding them from his hips as he lifted his ass off the bed to help. Jack threw his pants behind him and followed the line of his legs up to his straining erection between his legs. 

Jack felt his own erection jump at the beautiful sight of Eric laid out before him, but pushed it aside, he’d deal with himself later. Or maybe Eric would. 

Jack leaned forward, pressing his palm against Eric’s crotch, as he dragged his mouth up his thigh, relishing the smooth skin against his lips. He heard Eric groan above him, as his hand landed on Jack’s forearm. 

Jack dragged his lips higher, over the line of Eric’s underwear, sliding his hand away from his crotch to cover his erection with his mouth. He breathed heavily, kissing at Eric’s stiff hardness beneath the fabric. Jack swept his mouth up his erection, wrapping his lips around his head and sucking. 

“Jack,” Eric whined, his hand pressing harder into Jack’s arm. Jack swirled his tongue, tasting the bitter pre-come that was leaking through Eric’s underwear. Jack pulled back and blew over the wet spot that was now easily visible between his legs. Eric’s whole body twitched, his head lulled back on his shoulders, he was fuckign beautiful. Jack reached forward, grabbing the waistband of Eric’s underwear and pulled down hard, his underwear sliding off in one go. Jack took Eric in, completely bare before him, beautiful and gold. He moved his head down, wrapping one hand around the base of Eric’s cock as he slid his mouth over the tip. 

Jack enjoyed giving head. He like to watch people come undone by his doing, he liked to have some control in this aspect, but he’d never wanted to please someone more than he wanted to please Eric at this very moment. Jack slid his head down further, taking most of Eric into his mouth before bobbing his neck back up and stroking Eric with his hand as he moved.

“Fuck, Jack,” Eric whined, his hand twisting into Jack’s hair as he moved on his cock, sucking and licking, his hand sliding down to his balls to press and tease.

He could feel Eric’s thighs tensing beneath his hands, every motion with his mouth and hand building him up so well. He wanted him to crumble. 

“Jack _ —Jack, _ ” Eric said, his voice a wrecked, “I’m so close. Don’t stop, fuck don’t stop.”

Jack’s cock jumped at the need in Eric’s voice, so raw and transparent. He loved this. Jack lowered his mouth around Eric’s erection again, farther down until he felt Eric’s cock in his throat, his nose pressed into Eric’s skin. Jack hummed around Eric’s cock as he looked up and met Eric’s eyes. Fuck. He could get off from the sight of Eric alone. His bottom lip caught between his teeth, his hair falling into his face as he watched Jack work his mouth around his cock. 

“Jack—Jack,” Eric panted, breaths short. 

Eric’s thighs shook again and Jack slid back up his length, sucking hard as he went and he felt Eric’s hand grip harder in his hair. His muscles tightened and Jack stroked him once more with his hand, his mouth on his head, before he was spilling into Jack’s mouth with Jack’s name on his lips. Jack pumped him through his orgasm, keeping his eyes on Eric as his body shook and his hips rocked forward pushing himself deeper as he moved. Jack took him all, swallowed his release, and watched as Eric came back down, head bent forward on his chest, before Jack let his cock fall from his lips. He was beautiful. Absolutely wrecked and beautiful. 

Eric was only still for a minute before he pulled Jack by his arm, trying to pull him up closer to him as he lay back, spent, on the bed. Jack stood from his knees, quickly pulling off his pants and underwear before crawling on top of Eric, his erection pressed between his abdomen and Eric’s thigh. Eric ran his hand through Jack’s hair, the other wrapping around his back as he leaned down to press their mouths together, probably tasting himself in Jack’s mouth as their tongues slid together. 

“So good,” Eric breathed between their open mouths, “So fucking good.”

“I know,” Jack teased, kissing Eric back and rolling his hips slowly, the friction of Eric’s leg between his exactly what he needed.

“So cocky,” Eric said, sliding his hand lower down Jack’s side and settling it between Jack’s legs. He gripped jack’s cock in his hand and stroked him once, slow, torturous.

Jack moaned, so hard from watching Eric come undone that he knew it would only take a couple strokes of Eric’s hand and he’d be done.

Eric kissed him again, moving to his neck as his hand moved again, his thumb sliding over Jack’s slit, spreading his precome over his hand before pumping him again. 

Jack groaned into Eric’s soft hair, the little jolts of an orgasm building in his stomach. 

“‘m close,” Jack sighed sucking in a sharp breath as Eric sped up his movements.

Jack’s hips rocked forward, following Eric’s hand as he moved. Eric twisted his motions, sending a rupture of pleasure through his abdomen before he felt himself spilling across his own stomach, moaning Eric’s name into his shoulder, as Eric pumped him through his orgasm.

Jack lay on top of Eric, spent, sweaty, and so fucking content he almost couldn’t believe it. He moved after a minute, Eric’s hand rubbing soothing lines up and down his back the whole time, and pressed his mouth to Eric’s again. He kissed him hard, his nose smushed against Eric’s face before he pulled back and rolled off of him and to the side of the bed. He reached around on the floor, grabbing his pants and cleaning them both up with them. They could shower later or tomorrow, Jack didn’t care. He lay back on the bed, pulling Eric close to him and kissing up his neck. 

“That was so...,” Eric trailed off, smiling and wrapping his hands around Jack again. 

Jack followed suit, wrapping Eric up in his arms and pressing his forehead against Eric’s.

“ _ Somptueux,”  _ he said again, feeling the pull of sleep behind his eyes.

* * *

The memory of Eric Bittle curled around him in his bed as the early morning sun crept through his blinds would most likely be the cause of Jack’s death. He’d been thrown into the boards more than usual at practice and he knew his thoughts of Eric, naked in his bed, were the cause. He’d had a rough morning to say the least. The guys were relentless in their chirps, the sight of a usually put together Jack Zimmermann suddenly off his game with a visible hickey on his neck was enough to start an uproar. He’d never been chirped so much and that was saying something because he’d lived in the Haus for three years. He knew it was all in good fun and Jack went along with all of it, but it still stung that even if he had wanted to say something about the source of the hickeys and his dazed mood, he couldn’t.

So by the time he left the rink at 1pm, he was glad to be done with it all. He was annoyed. He was sore from practice, he’d gotten a late start which meant he hadn’t had time to eat his normal breakfast so he was hungry, and he wanted to see Eric again. Jack groaned and rested his head on his steering wheel. He wished he could have stayed in this morning forever. 

Eric had woken with confusion, sitting up and looking around Jack’s room and blearily at Jack before he laid back down. He pressed his face into Jack’s chest and kissed him. “Morning,” he’d mumbled, his warm breath sending chills all over Jack’s body. His normally neat hair was a mess on the side of his head that he’d slept on. Jack rubbed his hand up Eric’s back, holding him to his side as he felt Eric’s hand come up to trail across his chest. 

And then Eric’s phone had rang from his pants pocket which were crumpled in a pile over by the closet doors, where Jack had thrown them in his hurry to get to as much of Eric’s skin as possible. Eric scrambled out of bed, climbing over Jack and out of bed, his leg ending up twisted in the comforter which pulled it halfway off the bed. Jack watched him as he crossed the room, grabbed his pants and shook them until his phone fell on the ground, still ringing. He snatched it from the hardwood and held it to his ear. 

“Hello?” Eric answered, pausing.

“Oh, hun, I’m sorry!” He said loudly, back still to Jack who took the opportunity to admire Eric’s ass without anything to block the view. Eric started to pull on his pants, hoping as he held the phone with his shoulder, not even bothering to look for the underwear that Jack had discarded to some other unknown corner of his room last night. 

“No, no, that’s good. Just start without me.” He turned to face Jack, eyes wide, and mouthed “SHIRT” at him with a pleading look. 

“Chowder, hun, it’s fine,” Eric said into the phone as Jack got up and grabbed his briefs from the ground and pulled them on. Eric had been watching him, still holding a conversation with Chowder, and winked at him, pretending to fan himself. Jack grinned and waggled his eyebrows  before walking past Eric and into his closet to find a shirt for him. 

“I’ll be there soon, we’ll get everything done for y’all. It’ll be fine.”

Jack found a light blue v-neck that had always been a little too tight on him and brought it out to Eric who was buttoning his pants. 

“Okay, yeah. Y’all get Betsy going. I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Alright, Bye.”

Jack held the shirt out to him after he pocketed his phone. 

“Thank you!” Eric said grabbing the article from Jack and hold it up in front of him.

“It might be a little big,” Jack said, watching Eric pull the shirt over his head. It wasn’t terribly big, definitely not what Eric usually wore, but it didn’t look bad on him.

Eric ran into the bathroom and Jack heard the water from the faucet crank on. 

“I forgot to set my alarm last night,” Eric said from inside before Jack heard the water shut off and the door swung open. “I was supposed to meet Chowder at the Bakery to start on the prep work for this huge order for Monday afternoon.”

Eric walked out of Jack’s room, down the hallway and down the stairs, Jack following him the whole way.

“Do you want a granola bar or something?” Jack asked, hovering between the kitchen and the entryway, noticing their shirts still crumpled on the floor.

“No,” Eric answered, shoving his shoes on by the door, “I’ll just eat a muffin or something later. But thanks.”

He laced his shoes and stood up, running his hands down his pants a few times before looking at Jack. “When do you have practice today?” Eric asked, raking his eyes down Jack’s body again, still clad in only his underwear, before meeting Jack’s eyes.

“I’m middle group today, so 12:30,” he answered, watching Eric pull his bottom lip into his mouth. He wanted to kiss him, so he did. 

Jack stepped forward, sliding his hands around Eric’s waist and pressing their lips together. Eric’s hands held him low on his waist, fingertips brushing over the top of Jack’s ass as they kissed. Eric slid his hands lower, squeezing and pulling Jack closer to him. Jack sighed between their lips, the combination of Eric’s hands grabbing his ass and their bodies pressed together too good for him not to react. Jack sucked Eric’s bottom lip into his mouth and pulled back, biting down lightly to let his teeth drag across Eric’s lip as he moved.

“I don’t want to leave,” Eric said, lips red.

“Just come back after work,” he said, taking a step back from Eric, his bare skin missing their contact immediately. “You’ll have to collect your underwear at some point anyway, eh?” Jack chirped, grinning. 

Eric let out a disgruntled huff before turning around and heading towards the door. “It’s not my fault I couldn’t find them,” he said, opening the door to the hallway, “maybe if  _ someone _ hadn’t flung them as far as they could when they took them off me last night, I wouldn’t be in this embarrassing situation.”

“I don’t remember hearing any complaints yesterday,” Jack said, glad he was getting all his chirps out while Eric was still here. Jack leaned in the doorway as Eric hovered on the other side, his flush creeping steadily up his neck. 

“That’s enough teasing, Mr. Zimmermann,” he said before leaning forward quickly to press a kiss to Jack’s lips. He pulled back and began walking down the hall before Jack had even attempted to reciprocate. “I’ll see you later,” Eric called over his shoulder as he turned the corner at the end of the hall, walking out of sight. 

Jack turned to head back inside, shut the door behind him, and smiled into the empty house. 

* * *

His father had called him yesterday as he left the rink. Just checking in and seeing how things were going on the ice. Jack liked talking to his father about his fears for the media and his upcoming season. Bob Zimmermann may not have been the most talkative man in the world, but he knew how to get Jack to put his focus on the big picture. He knew how to calm him down. He’d been through all of this, felt the media’s scrutiny his entire professional career. And now Jack was ready for it. He had four days left before the preseason madness began. It felt like a weird time bomb in his chest, one he couldn’t stop, but one he also wanted to speed up. Four more days before the press, four more days of getting to spend a large part of his free time with Eric, four more days of having a life that didn’t center on the rink, and four more days before the media’s eyes would be all over him, judging and criticizing and tearing him apart without any remorse. Four more days until Jack Zimmermann got to prove himself to everyone who doubted him.

But he also had the next few days to be a guy with a new boyfriend, so that’s how he found himself holled up in the booth he favored with a book about the Civil War sitting open on the table as he checked the messages in the group chat. 

Lardo was officially moved into the Haus, Shitty had moved his anger from specifically one dude bro in his classes to every dude bro on the planet now, Rans and Holster were back from break, and all of the new dibs holders had begun the process of moving in.

Jack felt a pang of nostalgia and longing to be back at the Haus and then Eric sat down next to him in the booth with a slice of maple pecan pie and he felt infinitely better.

“Do you want to go out tonight?” Jack asked after he kissed Eric, his lips always so sweet. 

“How ‘bout you come to my house,” Eric said, stealing Jack’s fork and shoving a bite of pie into his mouth, “I need a recipe tester and you can help me bake.”

Jack’s mind immediately sprouted images of Eric in an apron and nothing else and he shook his head in agreement. 

* * *

Eric did not wear  _ just _ an apron while he was in the kitchen. Eric was in an apron, it was red and black plaid, but also in a pair of shorts and a long sleeve t-shirt, casual.

Eric was in full swing when Jack let himself in to the house, as Eric had instructed in his text. His house was small but open, light spilling in from the windows and brightening everything inside.  T hat sweet scent that Eric carried on him lingered in the air. Jack walked through the living room and into the open kitchen. He stood by the entryway and let himself take in Eric in his natural habitat. And it really seemed like it was where he belonged. Eric was so obviously comfortable in this space,  his hips swayed to the music that was playing on a speaker as he walked around the kitchen checking on different bowls and mixes while he whipped something in his arms with a spatula.

Jack cleared his throat and stepped into the kitchen, happy that Eric had wanted to share this with him. 

“Hey, Jack!” he said, his eyes lighting up as his smile grew across his face. Jack couldn’t help but smile back as Eric came towards him, mixing bowl still in hand, and reached up on his toes to kiss him.

His lips were even sweeter than usual, the taste distinctly rich, reminding Jack of—

“Maple,” Jack said against Eric’s lips, kissing him again and dragging his tongue across his bottom lip.

“You’re such a Canadian,” Eric said with a laugh between their lips.

“ Oh  _ est-ce ce que vous pensez _ , eh?” Jack said, laying the on thick.

Eric froze, stepped back from Jack and held out a finger. “There is one rule in this kitchen today, Mr. Zimmermann.”

“And that is?” He said with a grin. 

“No French.”

Jack’s eyebrows came together in confusion, that was an odd rule.

“Why?”

“Because,” Eric said, stepping forward and pressing his lips against Jack’s ear, “I don’t have the self control of a Saint and it would be counterproductive and time consuming to dirty my kitchen with things other than baking ingredients.”

Jack closed his eyes and turned his face into Eric’s neck with a grin before kissing his skin. 

“I bet it wouldn’t be that time consuming,” Jack teased, straightening up and looking at Eric’s face again, he was smirking. 

“For you maybe.” 

Jack let his head fall back as he laughed at the dig to his stamina. 

“Fine, fine,” Jack said, watching as Eric slid past him to grab a thermometer off the counter. And then the weight of Eric’s hip was thrown into his side and Jack stumbled away from him. Jack stared at Eric, narrowing his eyes when he saw Eric’s shoulders shaking with laughter.

“I thought you were a professional athlete, Mr. Zimmermann. Shouldn’t you be able to handle a little check?”

“I didn’t think I’d have to be on the lookout when I’m off the ice,” Jack grumbled.

“Can’t let your guard down with me,” Eric said with a wink. 

Jack shook his head and shoved Eric’s shoulder lightly.

“Now,” Eric laughed, waving his hand in the direction of a door on the other side of the kitchen, “There’s an extra apron in the closet. Hurry up. We’ve got work to do.” 

Jack stepped around him, dragging his fingers across Eric’s lower back as he went, and walked to the closet door.

“An extra apron was a bit of an understatement,” Jack called over his shoulder as he looked inside the closet. He heard Eric’s laughter behind him as he flipped the light on in the tiny room and saw the extent of Eric’s apron stash.There had to be at least a hundred of them. All different patterns and colors. Jack shook his head at the display and grabbed the first red one he saw, slinging it over his head and tying it behind his back before kicking the door closed. 

Eric had moved to the sink, filling up a few of the bowls with water and letting them sit as Jack strode over to him and wrapped his hands around his waist. He kissed the skin of his neck lightly, dragging his lips up farther, barely grazing Eric’s skin. He felt Eric arch into his touch, a soft groan falling from his lips. 

Jack stepped back, just wanting to tease, not totally distract him from the huge amount of work they needed to get through today. 

“Okay,” he said, clapping his hands together, “Tell me what to do.”

“Do you know how to use a whisk?” Eric asked turning around from the sink, with a smirk, neck flushed.

* * *

It turned out that yes, Jack could whisk. All the other techniques Eric had told him to use—whip, beat, fold, and knead—didn’t go as smoothly. Jack did help with some things, he did, but he enjoyed just being in Eric’s presence in his kitchen. Jack was happy to watch and talk to him all afternoon and evening as he worked his magic, occasionally breaking the spell to show Jack around the house while they waited for things to bake.

Eric amazed him. He was almost graceful in his movements as he moved from area to area of the kitchen completing recipes and mixing. He was meticulous about measurements, baking times, and temperatures, focused on every ingredient he combined. But he made everything look easy.

Jack could tell he loved this, could see how happy he was with himself as they sat at the kitchen table hours later, kitchen cleaned, the sky dark outside the window above them. Jack was content, and happy, and reaching uncomfortably full as Eric held out yet another dessert for him to try, this one a raspberry and orange tartlet with chocolate all over the top. 

“I know you made something with maple,” Jack said, because Eric still hadn’t let him try whatever it was. Jack leaned forward in his chair, pressing his hands against Eric’s knees for support, and bit into the pastry in Eric’s hand, his lips brushing over his thumb.

“You can be patient, Mr. Zimmermann,” he said, placing the other half of the tart on a plate next to him. “How’s that one?”

“Good.”

“Specifics,” Eric said, for what seemed like the hundredth time tonight. 

“I like the shell, it’s flakey. I’m not a big fan of chocolate so I didn’t like that, it was too sweet. The orange is stronger than the raspberry.” 

“You’re getting good at this,” Eric smiled, quickly typing something on his laptop. 

Jack slid his hands a little higher up Eric’s thighs, sliding the tips of his fingers under the hem of his shorts. 

“Last one for tonight,” Eric said, slicing a piece of cake from a dish near him and holding it out to Jack. Jack took a bite again, closing his eyes as soon as the flavor hit his tongue. He heard Eric’s laughter before he opened his eyes.

“Finally.” 

“I saved it for last on purpose,” Eric smiled before shoving the rest of the piece of cake into his mouth.

Jack pressed forward, kissing Eric quickly, his tongue sliding across his lips, the maple icing sweet and sticky. 

“This one’s my favorite,” he said, pulling back and bending forward to slide his hands a little higher. 

“I swear,” Eric said, rolling his eyes and covering the cake back up, tidying up the things around him on the table. Avoiding Jack’s eyes. Jack pushed his hands higher, fingertips grazing the edge of Eric’s underwear underneath his shorts.

“ C'était délicieux,” Jack shrugged, letting his thumb rub against the skin of Eric’s inner thigh. He watched as the flush deepened on Eric’s neck, saw him bite his lip, and turn back to face Jack. 

“I said no French in the kitchen,” he said, closing his laptop and standing up in front of Jack. Jack sat back as he moved, legs open with Eric standing between. Eric reached his hand out for Jack. 

“It’s not off limits in my bedroom, though.”

* * *

They didn’t make it to the bedroom.

Jack found himself shoved backwards on to the couch with a lap full of Eric Bittle. He wasn’t mad in the least. 

Eric was kissing him slow, torturing him with his lips and his hands as he rolled his hips against him. Jack could still taste the sweetness on his lips from the desserts as they lost themselves in each other. Their breaths heavy and mouths moving together. He felt one of Eric’s hands slide up his shirt, warm and soft as he pushed himself harder against Jack. Jack curled his hands around Eric’s waist, letting his fingers slide beneath the waistband of his shorts, teasing him, wanting more. 

“Jack,” Eric breathed, as he slid his mouth down and kissed across Jack’s neck. 

“Don’t leave a hickey on my neck again,” Jack said, he said breathlessly. He slid his hands around to undo Eric’s button and fly and felt Eric freeze above him. 

Eric sat up suddenly, pushing back from his chest. Jack let out a huff of frustration at the loss of contact. Eric sat back, his weight on Jack’s thighs, his eyes wide in horror. 

“Oh my lord,” Eric said, “I’m sorry, Jack. I didn’t know I did that I just got carried away. I’m not a teenager I shouldn’t be—”

Jack’s hands found Eric’s waist again and he pulled him forward, their erections sliding together between them as he did so. Jack groaned from the movement, the sensation too tantalizing for him to be silent about. He felt his abdomen tense with the shock of pleasure that shot through his body as Eric moaned in his ear. Jack turned his head to kiss the heated span of Eric’s neck. 

“I don’t care,” Jack said between kisses, “I promise I don’t care.”

He glided his his hand down Eric’s side, back to the front of his shorts and unhooked his button, sliding his zipper down as he mouthed up Eric’s neck, licking and sucking as Eric let out small whines in his ear. 

“Good, good,” Eric said, his voice catching at the end as Jack palmed his erection through his shorts before pulling him free from his briefs.

Eric lowered his head, placing his forehead against Jack’s shoulder, his breath coasting across Jack’s skin as he let out a burst of air. He slid his hands up and around to latch onto Jack’s shoulders leaving a trail of goosebumps along Jack’s skin as he went. Eric held him tight as he continued stroking him, Jack’s name falling from his mouth spurring on his movements. 

Jack gripped Eric tighter, watching as his body heaved on top of him, his breaths more ragged. Eric sat back, letting his hands fall to Jack’s waist, pressing his hand against the tent in Jack’s sweat pants. Jack was the one who groaned this time, his back arching as his head fell back on the couch. 

Eric didn’t waste anytime, pulling down the front of Jack’s pants and his briefs at the same time. Jack tried to keep his hand moving in a steady rhythm against Eric’s dick, but when his warm hand wrapped around Jack’s length, he faltered. Jack looked down, watched as Eric’s hand pumped him, his hand moving slow as he twisted up his length. 

Jack didn’t want to just watch though. He wanted to feel. He wanted to feel their skin together, slippery and throbbing. 

Jack pressed Eric’s lower back forward, his body sliding closer to Jack, his legs falling farther apart around him. They were so close. And Jack needed to feel them together. He stroked Eric once more before gripping both of them in his large hand and continued his movements. The moan that jumped from Eric’s lips was guttural and dirty and wild and Jack loved it. He felt his stomach twist in pleasure as Eric writhed above him, his nails scratching at Jack’s hip, so fucking hot. 

“ _ J'ai envie de toi _ ,” Jack hissed, his hand sliding up Eric’s back to pull him forward wanting to taste him as he came undone. 

“Fuck that’s so hot,” Eric said as Jack kissed his neck again. Eric slid his hand into his hair, tugging him backwards and crashing their lips together. Eric kissed him like he was trying to consume him, hips rocking and fingernails scratching at his scalp, pulling back with Jack’s lip between his teeth. 

Jack gripped them tighter in his hand, pressing against the tip of Eric’s cock with his thumb and circling. Eric sucked in a breath between their lips.

“Don’t stop,” Eric moaned, tightening his grip on Jack’s hair, “Fuck, Jack, don’t stop.”

Jack grinned. He’d do whatever Eric asked of him if it made him sound like this. Jack leaned forward to catch Eric’s lips with his, feeling his own orgasm building low in his abdomen. He moved his strokes upward, tighter still, focusing on their heads. With his hand moving quicker and the feeling of Eric’s leaking cock pressed against his own, Jack lost it. He moaned loudly, felt his body tense, his legs shaking as the pleasure rolled through his abdomen and down through his legs.  His hips bucked forward, jostling Eric as he arched backwards, shoving his head into the couch again and came between them. Jack felt his release sliding down his hand making his strokes slippery, but he didn’t stop his movements. He stroked from tip to base once, twice, three more times and then Eric was biting down on his shoulder, his moans vibrating in to Jack’s skin, maybe into his whole body, as he came in his hand. Jack stroked them slowly and lightly, too sensitive for anything more, as he felt Eric’s cock still in his hand. Eric let his full weight slump against Jack’s frame, his breath heavy, his hands sliding from Jack’s hair to rub up and down Jack’s arm. 

Eric kissed his shoulder, his neck, sucked his earlobe into his mouth, and then kissed his lips, lightly.

“I just washed these pants,” Eric teased, his voice quiet. 

“Mmm,” Jack hummed, sated and content and happy. Fuck, he was happy. Jack wrapped his hand around Eric’s back, slid it up higher into his hair and kissed him back, trying to relay everything he felt for him with his mouth. He pulled back, kissing over Eric’s cheek, his nose, his forehead, before trailing down to kiss him again. 

“ _ Tellement bon,” _ Jack murmured against Eric’s lips. 

“C’mon,” Eric said, kissing him one last time before pushing himself off of Jack. Jack opened his eyes, watching Eric as he tucked himself back into his underwear, leaving his shorts unzipped, and pulled off his shirt. 

Jack sat up straighter and Eric laughed. 

“Let’s go clean up and go to bed,” he smiled, walking backwards from the couch. Jack watched Eric turn around and walk down the hall. Jack’s stomach twisted with some emotion he didn’t feel like acknowledging yet and he laid his head back on the couch, staring at the white ceiling of Eric’s house. He tried not to think about the moans he’d just coaxed form Eric’s mouth, the firm heat in his hand as he came undone, the taste of Eric’s skin, but he was failing. Jack sighed and looked down at himself. He was a mess. He promptly tucked himself back into his briefs, wiped his hand on his pants, and stood up to follow Eric. He wanted to feel Eric’s skin again, already missing his sweet smell and warm smile. Jack felt his face flush slightly at his sappy thoughts and followed the path Eric had taken down the hallway and to the bedroom. The bedroom was dim, the bathroom leaving a splash of light across the floor. Jack could hear the shower running. Images of Eric’s wet body, so toned and beautiful and golden, filled his mind as he shucked off his pants and shirt and pushed open the door of the brightly lit bathroom. 

* * *

It had been a while since Jack had woken up in someone else’s bed. He’d forgotten how disorienting it was right as you woke up, the sudden drop in your stomach that something wasn’t right, something wasn’t familiar. And then Eric murmured something in his sleep as he pushed himself closer to Jack’s back, and Jack smiled. He closed his eyes relishing in the warmth of their skin pressed together.

Eric was curled up on his side behind Jack, one arm draped across Jack’s waist, touching Jack from chest to feet, lined up together perfectly. Jack could have stayed there forever. But then he noticed the persistant tingling in his arm as it fell asleep. Jack groaned in frustration and rolled on his back, trying hard not to wake Eric up with his fidgeting. 

Eric moved with him, his hand sliding to lay on top of Jack’s abdomen, his face nuzzled into Jack’s chest as he curled in on himself. 

“Mmmff back to sleep,“ Eric mumbled, lips tickling Jack’s skin.

“Morning,” Jack answered, voice scratchy.

“No,” Eric said, his hand moving up to rest on Jack’s chest, “ ‘s too early, shh.” 

Jack laughed, deep and low in his chest and rolled onto his side, sliding down the mattress to face Eric. He was smiling. His eyes still closed, feigning sleep, but his grin spreading wider as Jack trailed his fingers up down and the soft skin of his waist.

Jack was so content here, in this bed, with Eric’s arms wrapped around him. He felt good and not self conscious and he didn’t feel like he had anything to worry about in the world. Just him and Eric, here, together. Who needed to go out into the real world? Not them. 

He knew that wasn’t possible though. He had practice at 2 and Eric had to be at the Bakery some time before noon. But for now, he could pretend that their worlds only extended to the edges of the mattress. Maybe one day they wouldn’t have to pretend. Jack clenched his eyes shut, glad that Eric was still attempting to sleep and that he couldn’t see how embarrassed he was that his brain was supplying him sappy lines like that. 

But even though it wasn’t realistic, and probably a bit early in their relationship for thoughts like that, they hadn’t even been through one hockey season yet, Jack liked the idea.

Well, okay, maybe if the world they lived in included the edges of the mattress  _ and _ the bathroom, Jack thought. He untangled himself as gently as he could from Eric and ran to the bathroom, his bladder disagreeing with the idea that he could stay in bed forever.

When Jack walked back into the bedroom, he let his eyes roam over Eric’s sleeping form. The blanket down at his waist, his blonde hair radiant in the sunlight, the smooth skin of his back calling Jack’s name. 

Jack walked around the bed, sliding back under the covers and facing Eric, his naked body craving the warmth Eric gave him.

Jack couldn’t fall back asleep, and watching Eric breath evenly next to him, his lips slightly open, his hair falling into his eyes, wasn’t making his mind rest any easier. Jack was an early riser. His body, honed from years of early morning hockey training, alive and ready to go at the earliest time manageable. Jack looked at the clock beyond Eric’s freckled shoulder on the wall, it read 8:17am. Eh, it was late enough.

Jack rolled sideways, half on top of Eric, who had moved with him, eyes still shut. Jack kissed him. He kissed him softly, Eric’s lips responding with lazy movements, but opening up immediately for Jack to slide his tongue between. They kissed slowly, taking each other in and tangling closer together in the bed. Yeah, Jack would be content staying here his whole life.

Jack moved his leg, sliding it between Eric’s and pressing upward with his knee, Eric gasping into his mouth with the movement.  

“Jack Zimmermann, I swear,” Eric murmured, as Jack smiled against his lips.

Jack moved his lips down Eric’s neck nipping lightly at the skin beneath his jaw.

“I can stop,” he said, trailing his lips to the middle of Eric’s neck and up the line of chin before looking him in the eyes. His large brown eyes were heavy, mouth open. “If you want?”

Eric narrowed his eyes and sat forward, Jack forced to kneel on either side of his leg, his erection hanging heavy between his legs, brushing against Eric’s thigh. 

“What I want,” Eric said, smiling as he pushed Jack over on to the other side of the bed and kneeled between his legs in quick succession, “Is for you to be on your back.”

Jack grinned, appreciating Eric’s stern tone of voice at the end with his words. Eric laughed at himself, his laughter light and pleasant as his neck flushed lightly.

Eric leaned over Jack, his arms on either side of his head as he bent down to kiss him. This kiss wasn’t slow. It was all teeth and tongue and heavy breaths exchanged between them as Jack grabbed onto Eric’s shoulder pulling them even closer together. He felt Eric’s hand move from beside his head to run down Jack’s chest. His fingers, slid down the center of his chest, farther down his abdomen following the line of hair there to his cock that laid heavy and hot against his stomach. Jack arched upward at Eric’s touch, wanting more than the tracing of his finger against the underside of his erection. 

“Please,” Jack whispered against Eric’s lip while he brought his hand to Eric’s hip and pulled him closer. Eric slid his fingers lower, brushing over Jack’s balls and lower even to drag over his ass. 

“Please,” Jack said again, as Eric groaned his name before he sat up in his knees again and leaned over Jack towards his bedside table. He pushed himself up higher on the pillows as Eric rummaged through his bedside table. 

Jack craved him. He wanted to feel Eric all around him, as close as they could be, wanted to give control over to him, let Eric make him feel good. Jack felt his stomach coil with anticipation, fuck he wanted this.

“Do you have a condom cause I hav-,”

“What do you think I am, hon?” he laughed, slamming the drawer shut, “I’m not some inexperienced teenager of course I have a condom.”

“Sorry. Habit.”

“Bless your heart,” Eric said, settling between Jack’s legs again and sliding his hand up his thigh, “Don’t apologize, I’m glad you asked.”

Jack nodded his head, watching Eric as he stared at him, his eyes rolling down every inch of his skin. Jack was so exposed to him, laid bare before him, waiting for Eric to move, and he didn’t care. Didn’t feel any need to try and hide himself to him. Jack stared at Eric’s downturned eyes and blinked, the realization hitting him again. He  _ wanted _ Eric to see him like this. Waiting for him. Needing him. 

“Do you always bottom, Jack?” Eric asked, the question straight forward. Jack liked this. He liked that Eric was just as comfortable with him as he was with Eric. 

“I prefer it.”

“Lord almighty,” Eric laughed, putting his hand to his chest dramatically. Jack rolled his eyes and felt Eric smack his side lightly. He assumed Eric was happy about his answer when he immediately tore the condom open and rolled it down his erection, tossing the wrapper off the bed. He uncapped the bottle of lube he’d grabbed and poured some down his fingers. Jack felt his stomach roll in anticipation as he watched the substance drip down Eric’s hands before flicking his eyes back to Eric’s. 

“You’re amazing,” Eric said, reaching his hand between Jack’s legs and pressing at his entrance with one finger. He circled there, teasing Jack with a smirk on his face before pushing inside. Jack’s eyes closed, his breath huffing from his nose at the feeling as Eric pressed in further, slow, torturous. He worked his finger in and out of Jack, sending flickers of pleasure through his body as he moved. Eric pulled his finger all the way out and then pressed inward again, adding another finger with this pass. Jack groaned, opening his eyes to watch Eric’s face. Eric was staring at where his fingers moved inside Jack. Jack felt a little jolt of pleasure roll through him as Eric pressed harder, hitting his prostate. 

“Eric, c’mon,” Jack said, fisting his hands in the sheet, needing more. Wanting to feel all of him. 

“Well aren’t we impatient?” Eric said, slipping a third finger inside him stretching him, pushing upward, hard. 

“Fuck,” Jack moaned, his back arching as Eric focused his movements at his prostate, “Eric, please. Please,” Jack said again, his nails digging into Eric’s hips.

Eric pulled his fingers away, wrapping them around his own dick, stroking twice before holding himself at the base to line himself up with Jack’s entrance. He slid his cock along the cleft of Jack’s ass, around his entrance, teasing him, knowing how much Jack wanted him. How much power he had over him right now. Jack heard himself let out a whine.

Eric wrapped his free hand around Jack’s thigh and pulled up, helping Jack to hook his knee over Eric’s shoulder, as Eric pressed against his entrance and then pushed inside.

Jack sighed as he felt Eric slide deeper into him. He let his back arch again as his head pushed back into the pillows. He felt so full and Eric was so hot inside him as he stilled to let Jack adjust for a minute before pulling back and snapping his hips forward. 

Eric set his rhythm easily, his skin smacking against Jack’s with every thrust. He wrapped his hand around Jack’s cock as it bounced against his stomach, stroking in time with his hips. Jack moaned Eric’s name as he gripped his cock harder and heard Eric gasp.

“Look at you,” Eric whispered, letting Jack’s leg fall from his shoulder so he could lean forward and kiss him, “You’re taking me so well, feel so good.” Eric moaned, into Jack’s mouth and Jack felt wrecked. 

He sucked in an uneven breath as Eric thrust hard, Jack’s body alive with pleasure as the feeling rolled through his stomach and down into his legs. 

“Please,” Jack heard himself panting, bringing his hands down to Eric’s ass and pushing him deeper with every rock of his hips, “So good, Eric,  _ c'est bon, c'est bon. _ ”

Jack rolled his hips down with every movement, feeling like Eric was everywhere. His hands setting him on fire as they stroked his cock and dug into the muscle of his thigh. Jack felt electric. He felt alive. Eric stroked his hand once more as he slid past his prostate and then Jack was spilling all over his stomach as Eric coaxed him through his orgasm, speeding up the thrusts of his hips to make Eric’s name tear from his lungs one last time as he came. 

Eric didn’t stop his movements, he moved his hand from Jack’s spent cock and gripped Jack’s waist thrusting harder, his hands shaking, so close to his own release. 

“ _ Viens pour moi _ ,” Jack said, his voice rough.

Eric thrust into him once more as Jack wrapped his legs around his waist and Jack watched as his orgasm took him. Eric’s hips jerked forward erratically, his rhythm off as he sent thrills of pleasure through Jack’s overstimulated body as he thrust inside him as he came. As his thrusts slowed, Eric bent forward, pushing Jack’s legs from around him and laid on top of Jack, kissing anywhere he could get his mouth. 

Jack trailed his fingers up Eric’s back letting his heart rate settle again and his body come down from its high. Their chests heaved together, catching their breath in unison. 

“I could wake up like this every morning,” Eric said kissing the hollow of Jack’s chest. 

Jack tangled his hand into Eric’s soft hair and closed his eyes, imagining the thought. He wanted it. 

“C’mon,” Eric said after a minute of laying in silence on Jack’s chest. He slid away from Jack gently, tossing his condom in the garbage as he stood up from the bed, “let’s take another shower and I’ll make us breakfast.”

Jack opened his eyes and looked up to Eric. He felt sated and exhausted and unafraid for once in his life as he took in Eric’s golden smile.

He could get used to this. 

He rolled out of the bed, hip checking Eric when he caught up to him. 

* * *

It was the last day before preseason started and Jack found himself sitting at his table at the Bakery staring into the seating area, his book lying open, his coffee steaming away next to it. 

He was nervous. His hands had been shaking all day. He wanted to call Shitty or Lardo or his Mom and tell them to come and make this all easier. Wanted to call his Dad and have him make the stress all go away. 

But he couldn’t do that because this was his battle to face now.  

This was the dream he had wanted his entire life. The dream he’d almost lost when he was eighteen. The dream he fought to accomplish, taking roads less traveled and paths that some didn’t understand to get here. But it still scared the shit out of him. 

Tomorrow he’d wake up at the crack of dawn for his first preseason skate and then be thrown to the wolves of the media. 

Jack shook his head and took a drink of his coffee. He was going to be fi-

“Don’t tell Ellen, but I saved you the last piece of Maple Sugar,” a familiar voice whispered into his ear, disrupting his thoughts, as Eric’s arm wrapped around his waist.

Jack grinned into his cup and set it down in front of the pie that had been placed there with a fork before looking over to Eric who had slid into the booth with him, his elbow on the table, staring at Jack.

“I can tell you’re nervous,” Eric said, hand going to Jack’s thigh under the table.

“Yeah.” 

“You’re going to do great, Jack.” Eric smiled, all honesty and reassurance. 

“That’s what everyone keeps saying,” Jack said, unconvinced.

“Well we can’t all be wrong.”

Jack smiled, placing his hand on top of Eric’s on his thigh, “You could be.”

“Jack Zimmermann, I swear,” Eric huffed, leaning his head against Jack’s shoulder. 

Jack reached forward and grabbed the fork Eric had brought him and shoved a large bite of pie into his mouth. He groaned, chewing on the delicious, sugary, maple-y, flakey dessert and cut off another bite.

Eric stood up from the booth laughing, smiling as he moved. He darted his eyes around the room quickly before pressing his hand to Jack’s cheek, thumbing a line under Jack’s eye. He bent forward, pressing their lips together in a quick kiss and pulled back. Eric licked his lips, probably tasting the remnants of Jack’s pie, and turned around to head back to the counter. 

“I’ll call yah tonight,” he said over his shoulder as he walked away.

Jack  smiled to himself, pushing the pie to the side and looking at the words on the page of his book, not reading anything.

He didn’t know how this season would go. He hoped it would be great, that the media would see that he wasn’t riding on his Father’s name to have made it this far. They would see how much talent he had. How much drive he had. How much he loved playing hockey. 

Jack knew Providence was the right choice. He cared about his team, they were a great group of guys and they’d really connected over the offseason. They were ready. He was ready. He had support, he had his dream to follow, and he had people who were rooting for him. 

Jack looked back up to the counter, catching Eric’s eye as he rung out a customer. 

He felt his stomach turn at Eric’s smile. He didn’t know where they were going to end up either. Eric was still new for him, a relationship was new for him, thinking about someone as much as he did about Eric was new and horrifying. But Jack wouldn’t put anything less than his best effort in with Eric, just like he’d done with hockey, and look how that had turned out.

Jack turned his head back to his book, shoved another forkful of Eric’s pie in his mouth, and breathed in once through his nose.

He was ready

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long to post, my dear SS! It didn't plan for this story to be as long as it was but then I started writing it and I just...couldn't stop? I hope you enjoy it!!


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